#Earl of Salisbury

[captainsamta]

I was trying to redraw a scene from Elizabeth I (2005) but I think I went overboard

[tenth-sentence]

She did keep her good old house, defeating the Earl of Salisbury, who abandoned the five-month siege and retreated.

"Normal Women: 900 Years of Making History" - Philippa Gregory

[kacperabolik]

The Earl of Salisbury

Kacper Abolik, 2022

[thefollyflaneuse]

The Palladian Bridge, Wilton House, Wiltshire

The Palladian Bridge at Wilton House, in Wiltshire, was built in 1736-37 for Henry Herbert, the 9th Earl of Pembroke. The design was his own, and such was his passion for building that he became known as the ‘Architect Earl’. The bridge crosses the River Nadder which forms the boundary between the formal gardens and informal landscape. Continue reading The Palladian Bridge, Wilton House, Wiltshire

[tudorblogger]

Book and Writing Update

[stonelord1]

Scandal in Salisbury

Recently I had a rare opportunity to visit Church House in Salisbury. Used for administration of the diocese today, it is an attractive medieval/post-medieval building retaining many original features, and has an interesting but sometimes rather murky past. Originally it was built in the 15th century by a merchant called William Lightfoot, and was known in that era as The Falcon. However, later…

[catalinadearagonsblog]

Katherine of Aragon & Margaret Plantagenet

They had known each other since Katherine first came to England. Margaret’s late husband, Richard Pole, had been Prince Arthur’s Lord Chamberlain, and she had accompanied him to Wales during the brief five-month marriage of Katherine and her first husband. Royal by birth, Margaret Pole was one of the most important ladies of high rank in the kingdom and one of the last Plantagenets at the Tudor court.

There a bond seems to have been forged between the two women, despite the fact that Katherine spoke little English and was 12 years younger than Margaret. The Spanish princess soon learned that her father had demanded the execution of Margaret’s brother before she arrived in England, and she was horrified. Feelings of guilt over the Earl of Warwick’s unjust execution pushed Katherine to seek Margaret’s friendship. Many years later, Margaret’s son, Reginald Pole, recorded that Katherine was “very much bound to recompense and requite us [the Pole family] for the detriment we had received on her account (although she was not in the least to blame for it), and to show us every kindness, having found by experience that in all her sorrows and afflictions, from no family of the realm had she ever received greater consolation than from ours, although for her sake we had received so many injuries”

Arthur’s premature death at Ludlow parted them, but they continued to correspond until Henry VIII’s accession rescued Katherine from penurious widowhood and made her the queen consort she had always expected to be. Margaret had also known financial distress during this period (her husband died in 1504), but her loyalty and friendship were not forgotten. She came to court with her eldest son to attend Katherine’s coronation and was soon appointed one of the queen’s chief attendants. In 1512, possibly at his wife’s behest, Henry VIII granted Margaret’s petition for restoration of the earldom of Salisbury and she became a countess in her own right.

Katherine chose Margaret to be the governess of her daughter, Princess Mary. Margaret had formed a close bond with Katherine and treated her daughter with the same warmth. Katherine would gladly have seen a marriage between her daughter and her friend’s son Reginald. The Pole family fortunes crashed after Anne Boleyn became the second wife of Henry VIII. Not surprisingly, Margaret had sided with Katherine and Mary during the divorce struggle. Lady Salisbury was known for her devout Roman Catholic beliefs. When Princess Mary was declared a bastard in 1533, Margaret refused to give Mary's gold plate and jewels back to Henry VIII. When Mary's household was broken up at the end of the year, the sixty-year-old Margaret Pole asked to serve Mary at her own cost, but was not permitted. Five years after the death of Katherine of Aragon, Lady Salisbury was executed on the scaffold. Her death is one of the most tragic events in Henry VIII's reign.

Sources:

Linda Porter, Mary Tudor:The First Queen Sylvia Barbara Soberton, Great Ladies: The Forgotten Witnesses to the Lives of Tudor Queens

[aimeedaisies]

Court Circular | 17th July 2024

St James’s Palace

The Princess Royal, Colonel-in-Chief, Intelligence Corps, this afternoon visited 4 Military Intelligence Battalion at Bulford Barracks, Salisbury, Wiltshire.

Her Royal Highness was represented by Mrs Charles Ritchie (Lady in Waiting to Her Royal Highness) at the Funeral of the Earl of Rosebery and Midlothian which was held at Dalmeny Kirk, Main Street, Dalmeny, Midlothian, this afternoon.

[scotianostra]

31st July 1423 saw the Battle of Cravant.

Around 4,500 French and Scots soldiers, commanded by John Stewart, Earl of Buchan and Seigneur of Aubigny fell in defence of the town against the English commanded by Thomas Montacute, 4th Earl of Salisbury

Both sides had learned their lessons from previous battles and were drawn up opposed along the banks of the small river Yonne, no flashy cavalry charges, knights were to fight in close orders and dismounted, both sides had their archers and crossbowmen and artillery, both had reasonable defensive positions, the Dauphinists just had twice the numbers of the Anglo-Burgundians. However, a Burgundian artillery and English archery barrage brought the French centre into disorder

Salisbury ordered a quite unEnglish massive charge across the river and turned the enemy’s disorder into a rout, while a charge of Robert Willoughby’s men across a small bridge separated the French from the Scots.

The Scots tried to make a stand and refused to back down as as the French began to withdraw, when the rest of the Dauphinists fled they were overwhelmed and slaughtered, almost to a man. The Anglo-Burgundians had won the day against the odds.

Buchan was lucky to be taken alive, Henry V of England had re-asserted the English claim of suzerainty over Scotland, and therefore executed Scots prisoners of war on the grounds that they were traitors, fighting against their own King.

After the battle Buchan was exchanged, and after his release in 1424 he was appointed Constable of France making him the effective Commander-in-Chief of the French army. To recover from the losses sustained at Cravant, fresh troops under the Earl of Douglas were dispatched from Scotland to France.

Buchan was killed a year later at the Battle of Verneuil, along with most of the Scottish troops in France, when abandoned by their French allies and almost completely surrounded, the Scots made a ferocious last stand, but were overwhelmed.

[pwlanier]

HENRY BARRAUD (BRITISH, 1811-1874)

'Polydora', 'Annette', 'Salisbury', 'Polyxena', Mares Belonging to Earl Spencer

signed ‘H. Barraud’ (lower left)

oil on canvas

Christie’s

[heartofstanding]

Tell me everything about Joan if Kent, specifically which historians I should hiss at.

Oh man, Joan of Kent is awesome. It's hard to describe her life quickly because she had such a long and varied one. It spans from the end of Edward II's reign and the upheavals of Edward III's minority throughout the glory years of Edward III's reign to the decline in his latter years to the Peasants Revolt and the fragile beginnings of Richard II's reign. She can assume a number of different shapes: romantic heroine, powerful and influential woman, fashion icon, mediator, literary patron, scandal, survivor. She makes a status-defying match, ostensibly for love, and then follows it up by marrying the heir to the throne of England, again ostensibly for love.

Of course, it was the Middle Ages so a lot of medieval chroniclers and commentators saw her as the stereotypical wanton, transgressive woman.

Her story:

Joan was the daughter of Edmund, Earl of Kent (Edward I's youngest son) and Margaret Wake, and was thus Edward I's granddaughter, Edward II's niece and Edward III's first cousin. She was born before or on 29 September 1326-1328 (the exact year is debatable). Her father was executed in 1330 in highly controversial circumstances for attempting to free the deposed and likely dead Edward II.* Joan is generally believed to have become a ward of Philippa of Hainault as a small recompense for Kent's execution (Edward III and Philippa are believed to have played no role in Kent's execution). In the winter of 1340-41, Joan was married to William Montagu, the son and heir of the Earl of Salisbury. This was an entirely conventional match: he was of similar age and status to herself, the marriage ensured she would become Countess of Salisbury upon his father's death. But about seven years later, there was a scandal: a knight, Thomas Holland, claimed that Joan had married him clandestinely and that they had consummated it before she married Montagu. He appealed to the papal authorities to return her to him.

A long, protracted dispute followed. Montagu appears to have kept Joan imprisoned in strict seclusion so she could not respond or appoint an attorney to respond on her behalf to the papal investigation. Eventually, she was able to do so and evidently supported Holland's claim: the investigation found in Holland's favour. Her marriage to Montagu was annulled and she and Holland were have their marriage solemnised publicly.

Because of the scandal and the struggle to have the marriage recognised, as well as the unusualness of the match itself, Joan and Holland's relationship has typically been seen as a romance for the ages. But Joan was, at most, 13 years old (and possibly even as young as eleven) and Holland, born c. 1315, was around 25 years old, i.e. close to, if not actually, double her age, when they married clandestinely. At around 12 years old, she was considered to be "marriageable age" and a medieval 12 year old was likely considered more mature than a modern girl of the same age. But she was, still, you know, a 12 year old girl marrying a 25 year old man. That it has been hailed as a great romance is not really surprising given the stereotypical view of the Middle Ages as a time when dirty old men married preteen girls and raped them and the fact that until very recently Lolita was published with a blurb calling it the "only convincing love story" of the 20th century.

There are a number of legends attached to Joan from around this time. Two stories refer to a Countess of Salisbury and Joan held the title for the last four years of her Montagu marriage, though her then-mother-in-law, Katherine Grandison, also held the title as the dowager. The first story records that Edward III raped the Countess of Salisbury - the details of the story make it clear that Katherine, not Joan, is who was meant, though that has not stopped some with connecting the story to Joan specifically. The story itself is unverifiable - the earliest, i.e. contemporary, recording of the story contains both factually correct and factually incorrect details, and it is French in origin, which might mean it was propaganda designed to smear Edward III (this does not prevent it from being true, however). Some have suggested that the story has been confused. We certainly have no way of proving or disproving it beyond a doubt, but the idea it was meant to refer to Joan are very slim.

A second, much lighter story involves the foundation of the Order of the Garter. In it, the Countess of Salisbury is dancing when a garter slipped from legs, producing amusement. Edward picked up the garter and returned it, admonishing, "Honi soit qui mal y pense!" ('Shame on him who thinks ill of it!'), which then became the order's motto. This tale has also been heavily doubted and whether it was Joan or Katherine who is meant is debated. In both stories, Joan is often the more prominent candidate but that likely reflects how b*etter known she is and how these stories "fit" with her reputation as a beautiful, sexually desirable woman.

From 1350 to 1361, Joan gave birth to five children: Thomas, John, Joan, Maud and Edmund (who died in infancy). In 1352, Joan's only surviving sibling**, John, died childless and she inherited the earldom of Kent. This led to a massive step up in status and wealth for her new family. Holland died on 28 December 1360 from illness.

By spring 1361, Joan had another husband in line: Edward of Woodstock. Edward was the eldest son and heir of Edward III, Prince of Wales, war hero, chivalric icon and known famously, if anachronistically, as "the Black Prince". Joan was not the obvious choice for the Prince's wife - a conventional choice would be a royal or noble woman from the European continent (there had been a number of failed marriage negotiations for this type of marriage for the Prince), and had the Prince outlive his father, Joan would have been the first English-born queen since the Conquest. She was also the first Princess of Wales since Wales was incorporated into the English crown. It's frequently asserted that the Prince had long-loved Joan and he does appear to have referred affectionately to her, but we don't really know what Joan felt about the Prince or her marriage.

As a result of the Treaty of Bretigny, the Prince was to rule Aquitaine on Edward III's behalf. Joan and her Holland children accompanied him when he sailed to Aquitaine the following year. We don't know a lot about Joan in Aquitaine. We know her fashion sense drew fairly predictable criticism and that she gave birth to two sons while there. The first, named Edward, died in Aquitaine in 1370, aged 5 years old and the second would become Richard II. The Prince was much-criticised for his arrogance and ostentatious style in ruling Aquitaine and it's possible Joan was a part of that. A lot of work has gone reassessing his rule, however, and found it was not necessarily as bad as has been assumed.

After 1367, the Prince became seriously ill and the war with France was set to reignite. Incapable of carrying out his duties in Aquitaine effectively, Edward, Joan and their family returned to England in 1371, where his health declined further. Joan often acted in his stead during this period, and when he died in 1376, she was made guardian of their son, Richard, who was now the ailing Edward III's heir and became king himself in 1377, aged only 10.

Joan remained a infinitely influential and powerful woman in the coming years, with some historians describing her as a "quasi-queen". A large portion of pardons and grants were made at her request, and as Countess of Kent and the dowager Princess of Wales, she had large estates of her own to administer. She also enjoyed a great reputation as an mediator: she mended the quarrel between John of Gaunt, Henry Percy and the city of London and mediated between Gaunt and Richard. Interestingly, her entourage included leading members of the Lollard movement, suggesting she may have been interested in reform of the church. This was also time of Geoffrey Chaucer and literary scholars has been suggested Joan served as inspiration for a various number of figures in Chaucer's work.

During the Peasants Revolt of 1381, she was harassed en-route to London and the rebels asked for her to kiss them. Chroniclers also recorded her state of terror when the Tower of London was broken into, though it may have been more of a rhetorical device on behalf of chroniclers to show what they saw were the horrors of the rebels' behaviour.

Joan appears to have taken a step back from court. Possibly, she was increasingly incapacitated by illness (it's been suggested Joan suffered from dropsy/edema; the chronicler Thomas Walsingham claimed she was so fat she could barely move, though no other chronicle made this claim), or possibly she retired once Anne of Bohemia married Richard II so not to overshadow the new queen. Despite illness and retirement, Joan attempted to mediate between Richard and another of her sons, John Holland, when the latter murdered Ralph Stafford and Richard had determined to execute him. One chronicler claimed Richard's refusal to hear her pleas caused her to die of grief. The stress of the situation could hardly have helped if she was suffering an illness. She died 7 August 1385 and was buried in the same church as her first husband, Thomas Holland. This has generally been taken as evidence that she loved him best but the situation may have been more complicated. The plans for the Prince's burial changed dramatically, which may have led Joan choosing to be buried elsewhere or she may have made her choice to as a gesture of affection for her less royal family. Richard did pardon John after Joan's death and they were reconciled, so one might say that even in death she was a successful mediator.

In terms of her descendents, Richard died childless but most of her Holland children had issue. She had descendents on both sides of the Wars of the Roses.

*If you're unfamiliar with the reigns of Edward II and Edward III, the short summary is that Edward II ended up basically alienating everyone through his relationship with and preferential treatment of Hugh Despenser the Younger (quite possibly his lover). The queen, Isabella of France, eventually allied with Roger Mortimer, Earl of March and spearheaded a rebellion that led to Edward's deposition and the execution of Despenser. His son, Edward III, became king but as he was a minor, Isabella and Mortimer effectively ruled in his reign. Edward II was said to have been murdered on 21 September 1327 and most historians accept this. However, there are some references to Edward II surviving well past this, including the plot to free him that Edmund was involved with, and there is a coterie of historians who believe it, namely headed by Ian Mortimer and Kathryn Warner. Given Edmund's royal blood, his execution was deeply unpopular - no one could be found willing to execute him until a criminal was given a pardon in exchange. Edward III is said to have wanted to pardon Edmund but was blocked by Isabella and Mortimer by doing so. When Edward III took control of government and ousted Mortimer, he posthumously pardoned Edmund and executed Roger Mortimer. One of the charges against Mortimer was that he'd duped Edmund into believing Edward II was still alive.

** Joan had two or three siblings. Her brothers were Edmund, the eldest boy who was born had died before 5 October 1331 and John, who was born posthumously on 7 April 1330, inherited the earldom as an infant and died childless on 26 December 1352. A sister, Margaret, is sometimes identified but she seems to be attested only from an authorisation to negotiate a marriage - Penny Lawne has argued that it was more likely that Joan was the intended bride but the clerk writing out the authorisation confused her name with her mother's (Margaret). There does not seem to be any other evidence of her existence - she is not mentioned as attending the baptism of John, though her other siblings are, and she is not mentioned in the Inquisition Post Mortems for John where Joan is named as his only heir. If Margaret had existed, she must have died sometime before John's death. Her death is sometimes given as 1352 but I'm not sure what the source for this is..

Historians To Hiss At.

As you might guess, Joan's life suggests a sexual impropriety and scandal, or in a slightly less misogynist sense, a life dominated by romance. She was a bigamist. She was married for love. She married three times and only one of them to a man appropriate to her status. She's both Lady Chatterley, driven by lust into the arms of a man of lesser status, and the relentless, cold-hard social climber like Philippa Gregory's Anne Boleyn.

So of course historians through the centuries have replicated that bias. For some, like Anthony Goodman, she's a giddy romantic who follows her heart who never manages to mature. For some, she's a romantic heroine, her and Thomas Holland are the epic romance of the Middle Ages which, uh, doesn't really take into consideration Joan's youth at their marriage. For others, she's a saucy wench, hooker with a heart of gold - I've seen someone point out how young Joan was when she married Holland on Twitter and gotten the response of "well she was saucy ;)". For others still, she's just a slut and a selfish, slippery, scheming one at that. After all, all those good men wouldn't have been falling themselves over her without her seducing them, would they? Anyway, it's a Russian Roulette whenever you pick something up about Joan. Will it romanticise a guy having sex with a 12 year old? Will it call the 12 year old a giddy romantic? Will it slut-shame the 12 year old? I've only found one thing - Samantha Katz Seal's review of Anthony Goodman's biography of Joan - that actually suggested Joan was a victim of abuse without immediately offering a theory to work around it.

Two examples:

The peach that is renowned Ricardian crank and misogynist John Ashdown-Hill wrote that "the girl's [Joan was in her 30s) reputation left a good deal to be desired … she was deficient in some respects and rather too-well endowed in others".

Ian Mortimer's biography of Henry IV makes overly frequent comparisons between Henry and Richard II, who Henry deposed and had murdered, basically to the tune of "Henry was better than Richard! Henry had the biggest penis!" One repeated comparison is their mothers, where Mortimer describes Joan's legacy as "burdensome" for Richard and cast a shadow over his legitimacy, while "Henry’s mother, in contrast, was popularly regarded as one of the most lovely adornments of the English court". One's a burden, the other's a beautiful object.

But the historian that I really get my hackles up about is Kathryn Warner, probably I once thought really very highly of her. She talked a lot about going back to the original sources instead of repeating what other historians have said, not speculating without supporting evidence, and having progressive values. Notably, she called out the homophobia and misogyny that hung around depictions and discussions of Edward II and Isabella of France. She was originated (I think?) or at least got heavily involved with the Don't Defame The Dead movement with history bloggers and the histfic community on Goodreads.

Warner follows Mortimer's example, talking about how "embarrassing" Joan was for Richard II unlike the Saintly Dead Paragon Of Medieval Feminine Virtue That Was Blanche of Lancaster. She even deepens that comparison when talking about Joan being sexually harassed during the Peasants Revolt:

even the rebels in 1381 demanding kisses from her, though it may indicate that they liked her and found her considerably more approachable than other members of the royal family and the nobility, does not imply deference for a royal person and the king’s mother. It is difficult to imagine anyone demanding a kiss from Joan’s predecessors Philippa of Hainault or Isabella of France, or from Henry of Lancaster’s mother Duchess Blanche.

So... we're victim blaming Joan for being sexually harassed. After all, as Warner loves to point out (repeatedly) Joan did have a "habit of dressing in the style of a freebooter’s mistress" that "did Joan’s reputation no good whatsoever". In her Philippa of Hainault biography, Warner seems to imply that Joan's style of dress was the sole complaint about the Black Prince's conduct in Aquitaine.

Edward and Joan of Kent lived in magnificent, extravagant splendour, and not everyone approved: one observer stated that the princess of Wales and Aquitaine wore great furred gowns and low-cut bodices in the style usually worn by the mistresses of freebooters: ‘I am disgusted by those women who follow such a bad example, particularly the Princess of Wales.’ Even so, not a word of condemnation came from Edward’s parents the king and queen.

There are many, many complaints about the Prince's actual conduct but Warner chooses to single out Joan's fashion sense and implies that it was worthy of condemnation from Edward III and Philippa of Hainault. Given Philippa herself was an assiduous follower of fashion and it seems doubtful that she'd think Joan following the new fashion style was worthy of complaint.

Actually, it would be very reasonable to interrogate this. Richard Barber points out this is the "French view" of English fashion and it may well be that there was underlying xenophobia in the sentiment. Additionally or instead, we could read it as another entry in the age-old misogynistic tradition of men complaining about women's fashion. In short: we should not be replicating the biases of the Middle Ages as an excuse to talk about how embarrassing or condemnatory Joan's behaviour was.

But what was, you may be asking, a freebooter's mistress? A freebooter was a effectively a pirate so Warner is effectively saying that Joan dressed like a pirate's whore.

In discussing Joan's marriage, she gives Joan's age as "only thirteen or fourteen" before correcting herself to "at most thirteen and a half" and then notes Holland was in his mid-20s. Warner then says:

Evidently, though, she found him extremely appealing, and they married clandestinely and consummated the marriage, or so they later claimed.

I feel like if a man writing in the 1970s can recognise that Joan may have been coerced in marrying Holland, as Karl P. Wentersdorf did, saying Joan may have "been placed under pressure by her suitor and had not given her full and free assent", Warner can do much, much better than "clearly 13 year old Joan of Kent found him soooooo hot". We have no idea how they married or how Joan felt about her marriage as it happened. Of course it's possible that Joan found him hot - kids have crushes on adults all the time, though they don't really want to have sex with their crush except in the theoretical sense. But maybe Joan didn't, maybe Joan was pressured, as Wentersdorf suggested in 1979, or maybe she was groomed and believed she did. But I think it is just... a really irresponsible, victim-blaming line to take in relation to a 25 year old marrying a 13 year old (if Joan was as old as 13).

While Warner does recognise the creepiness of the relationship between Holland and Joan, she discusses it like so:

Thomas Holland was twice her age, a gap which makes their supposed love-match seem less romantic and more creepy and abusive to modern sensibilities (though contemporary opinion would have held an earl’s daughter and king’s granddaughter marrying a man so far beneath her in rank as a far worse misdemeanour.

I'm so glad she threw in the reference to how Joan, contemporarily speaking, was the worse offender in the relationship. We have no idea how people who actually knew her understood the relationship, it's possible they were horrified on her behalf. We only know what chroniclers - writing when Joan was an adult - made of it and chroniclers were frequently full of misogyny. As Warner has pointed out herself, they were the gossip magazines of their day.

Warner suggests that rather than using the money Holland had gained for fighting in the Crecy campaign to finance the very expensive process of appealing to the papal authorities, he felt that finally, with all this money, he could keep Joan "in the style to which she was accustomed", making her sound like a spoilt brat who'd been like "eww poor person" at Holland. Montagu, in Warner's telling "supposedly kept her prisoner". That neither Joan nor an attorney on her behalf responded a summons and that Pope Clement VI dispatched a brief to the Archbishop of Canterbury and other prelates enjoining them to ensure Joan could appoint her own attorney suggests that Montagu was preventing Joan from responding in some way.

This is all a prelude to the theory Warner believes in which is that Joan and Holland made up the story of their earlier marriage because they met while Holland was working as Montagu's steward and fell in "love or lust" and wanted to marry. So, in that regard, Joan isn't a victim of what today we would call child sexual abuse but actually an adulteress who lied to the papal authorities because she wanted to be Mrs Thomas Holland.

Only problem is that there is absolutely no evidence of this and quite a lof of reasons why it doesn't make sense. This post is long enough already so I'll write them up in a separate post. We can't even say that Holland was Montagu's steward because the only evidence of this is in John Hardying's chronicle, written during the Wars of the Roses - over a century on from events.

Some of this might sound like nitpicking or disagreements on historical record, and maybe it is. But Warner does have a Facebook post where she complains about Joan's "fans" who depict her as "amazingly special and unique and far more important than anyone else" (where are all these fans, I wonder). In the comments, she indicates her reasoning for the theory Joan and Holland lied which basically boils down to:

it's sickening that the story is treated as a great love story when it's not love and "just disgusting"

Not speaking up about his marriage makes Holland look like a coward, which he wasn't and it makes Holland look like an abusive groomer which she sincerely hopes he wasn't

she "prefers" the version where Joan wasn't groomed and raped and it's empowering to imagine her choosing Holland

Joan's fans are annoying

To which I would say:

It is sickening! But also: how people have interpreted and represented the relationship has nothing do with the reality of it.

It's not "brave" for a grown man to admit to having sex with a 12/13 year old. And he did very much admit to having sex with a 12/13 year old Joan - eventually. Being brave in battle does not make a man more or less likely to be an abuser. Finally, wishing and hoping does not make history.

It is a historian's job to interpret the evidence, not ignore it for a fantasy scenario in which they can feel good about what happened. It is also not really empowering or feminist to erase Joan's abuse.

How do people living almost 650 years on from Joan have any impact on Joan's lived reality? Girlbossed historical women is an annoying phenomena but it has nothing to do with the real Joan or her life.

[thedudleywomen]

On This Day (25 Aug) in 1540, Katherine Grey was born at Bradgate House, Leicestershire; the second daughter of Henry Grey, 3rd Marquess of Dorset and his wife Frances Brandon.

Whilst her elder sister Lady Jane Grey was renowned for her intelligence and religious fervour, Katherine was known for her warmth and affection (in particular towards her pets), as well as her beauty. In Aug 1561, a heavily pregnant Katherine Grey was imprisoned in the Tower of London by a furious Elizabeth I after discovering her secret marriage to Edward Seymour, Earl of Hertford 9 months previously. Whilst in the Tower she gave birth to two children (who were later deemed illegitimate), following a forced annulment of her marriage, due to the belief that it was part of a conspiracy against Elizabeth, given her previous claims to the English throne.

Katherine was later released from the Tower in 1564, although remained under house arrest, having been separated from her children. Weak and depressed, and refusing to eat, Katherine died on 26 Jan 1568 aged 27yo of consumption at Cockfield Hall, Yoxford; she was initially interred in the nearby chapel, although her body was moved to Salisbury Cathedral, and buried alongside Edward Seymour beneath a great monument dedicated to the pair, following his death in 1621.

[redundant2]

The hottest tea from Lady C in 2023

God knows why and I'm clearly a masochist, but I had a whim to watch all her 2023 videos and have transcribed the juiciest bits. (Watching them at 1.5 speed helps...a little.)

1/19/23:

“I am telling you everybody is sitting on a massive secret. . . Massive! They have been doing so for awhile. The family didn’t know about it! For quite awhile! They were actually enlightened by the public in dribs and drabs. More than that i do not wish to say at this juncture. There is nothing the RF have to apologize for.” 

"I know what each side has on the other and let me tell you something - Harry and Meghan have nothing compared to what is had against them."

1/10/2023

"Harry seems to have never understood in his 38 years on this Earth that there's a reason why the Buckingham Palace press office exists. He ought to know it only too well.

"They were busy putting out fires to preserve his reputation and presenting it from being scorched. Until he left the royal family and then started to attack them, at which point they've let him speak for himself.

"I'm telling you, I know as a fact of one huge (when I tell you 'huge', I mean HUGE! Bigger than his ego or Megan's ego) story that Buckingham Palace has been, behind the scenes desperately trying to douse.

"One. At least one."

1/7/2023

Diana had an affair with the Earl of Pembroke after William's birth but before Harry was born. "The 17th Earl of Pembroke was a tall, slim, dashingly handsome movie producer, with the ideal looks for a romantic hero. According to Barbara Cartland, his ancestral home Wilton House, in Wiltshire near Salisbury, was one of the most beautiful homes in Britain. Henry Herbert, Earl of Pembroke and Montgomery, was top drawer.

"He and the rest of his family had always mixed in royal circles as I can personally attest, having met him in 1975 at a party given by Princess Elizabeth of Yugoslavia. He was also the producer of the movie that destroyed Koo Stark's chances of becoming the Duchess of York. He didn't flip my light switch, but he flipped Diana's."

1/5/2023

Viewer Question "I want to know whether you can assure us that Harry and Megs will get their comeuppance this year."

Lady C: "You don't have to wait that long. Sometime this year, on more than one location, Harry and Megan are going to discover that what goes around, comes around and if you prod the bear long and hard enough, he will not only get up and growl, but he will swipe at you and he might even tear your raiments and remove your masks, and you will be revealed in all of your ingloriousness for what you truly are.

"Take it from me, you don't have that long to wait. A few months - there's a lot in the pipeline. "

"Oh, people are going to get their just desserts. They're going to discover that attack was not the best form of defense. Sometimes coming clean is a far better policy.

"(The Royal Family) came to the conclusion, quite justified it has to be said, that Harry wanted them to breach the rules governing the press and the royal family for his and Megan's convenience. It wasn't only for their convenience, to the best of my information. It was more than for their convenience. More than that, I do not wish to say on that particular point." (Implying that Harry wanted them to cover something up?)

1/3/2023

"I'm choosing my words very carefully. There are persistent reports from extremely well-placed people, some of whom are long-standing friends of Harry's, that Harry and Megan lead entirely separate lives. They are de facto separated, although they are living supposedly and ostensibly and superficially and very occasionally under the same roof.

"Harry is trying to make tracks back with friends, many of whom have spurned his attempts but he's not trying to make tracks back with the family because he is insistent that he is in the right, he's always been in the right. incidentally Harry's always had a massive ego, and has always been pretty uncontrollable.Tthat was one of the virtues of Meghan: she was able to control him, as we've seen, but that allure seems to have become water to a large extent under the bridge. I think William has a far more realistic attitude of what the outcome of all of this is going to be: very sad."

"Remember, Meghan she told the queen, 'Use me as you will, as if the queen was a John. Very interesting, that comment that she made." 

Bonus: 12/31/2022 - New Year's Eve

"I don't think Harry's book is going to stay on the best sellers list for any length of time, unless of course Harry and Megan start to come clean." (raises her eyebrow.)

"Meghan's like an egg beater in one's brain, but I'm going to leave you with a sword. You're going to see Megan in all her shorn glory. That's right -depend on it. Megan is going to be revealed to the world as she truly is. That's gonna be something worth seeing."

12/20/2022 - (This is the one that intrigues me most.)

"Harry and Meghan were absolutely right to be terrified (in Liverpool), and I have no doubt she was playing every card in the book in case what had gone down, came out. Let me put it that way. But he didn’t, and they are really dumb to be belaboring the point. Because now, it’s only a matter of time before what went down, it does come out. Let’s see if she commits suicide then, because what went down is definitely not going to be something he or she wants to come out. I make that point for what it’s worth.

Netflix is laying the ground for assisting in what is the most flagrant sleight of hand and manipulation ever perpetrated upon the public."

What is Harry looking down at? This was their visit to the Wirral, near Liverpool. Is this what Lady C is referring to?

[world-of-wales]

─ •✧ WILLIAM'S YEAR IN REVIEW : NOVEMBER ✧• ─

1 NOVEMBER - The Prince of Wales held an Investiture at Windsor Castle. He gave a video message at Emergency Responders Mental Health Symposium. 2 NOVEMBER - The Duke and Duchess of Rothesay visited at Burghead Primary School and Brodieshill Farm. Subsequently they visited Day1 in Inverness. 4 NOVEMBER - William departed from Heathrow Airport for Singapore. He appeared in the BBC Earthshot Prize Trailer. He appeared in a video message to support the Stand Up To Cancer Campaign. 5 NOVEMBER - William arrived at Singapore Changi Airport and was received by the British High Commissioner to the Republic of Singapore. Afterwards, he attended a Welcome to Singapore event at the Jewel and was received by the Senior Minister of State for Foreign Affairs. 6 NOVEMBER - William visited PAssion Wave @Marina Bay and joined in a Dragon Boat Race. He was received by The President of Singapore at the Istana. Subsequently, William called upon the Prime Minister of the Republic of Singapore. He attended the United for Wildlife Global Summit. 7 NOVEMBER - William held Meeting with Finalists of the 2023 Earthshot Awards. Afterwards, he attended a Founding Partners' Lunch. He attended the Earthshot Prize rehearsals. He later visited EcoLabs. He attended the Earthshot Prize Awards. Subsequently he attended an Earthshot Prize Thank You Reception. 8 NOVEMBER - William visited TreeTop Walk at Central Catchment Nature Reserve. He attended the Earthshot+ Summit. He visited Centre for Wildlife Forensics. William attended a Meeting with UK Defence Advisers at the British High Commission. He attended a Reception for the Earthshot Prize. Finally, he departed from Singapore Changi Airport for the UK. William gave appeared in an Earthshot Q&A video. 9 NOVEMBER - He arrived at Heathrow Airport. 10 NOVEMBER - William appeared in BTS Earthshot Prize Portraits. 11 NOVEMBER - Will and Cat attended the RBL Festival of Remembrance. 12 NOVEMBER - The Prince of Wales along with The Princess attended the Remembrance Day Service of Remembrance and laid a wreath at the Cenotaph. The broadcast of the 2023 Earthshot Awards, featured a video of William and Catherine snorkelling with Coral Vita. 13 NOVEMBER - William received Lieutenant General Ian Cave & Brigadier Peter Dennis (Colonel & Secretary, Mercian Regiment) at Windsor Castle. Later, he attended the Funeral of Sir Robert Charlton. 14 NOVEMBER - William and Catherine attended The King's Birthday Party. 15 NOVEMBER - The Prince of Wales was represented by Miss Helen Asprey at the Service of Thanksgiving for the late Earl of Airlie KT. 16 NOVEMBER - William visited the Hideaway Youth Project in Manchester. Later, he visited Keeping It Real at Moss Side Millennium Powerhouse. Subsequently, he visited Jessie's Wall. 17 NOVEMBER - William appeared in a 'This or That' session video for Earthshot. 21 NOVEMBER - William and Catherine welcomed The President of the Republic of Korea and Mrs Kim Keon Hee at their Hotel. They then accompanied the Presidential Couple to Horse Guards and were met by The King and Queen. Afterwards, they viewed an Exhibition of the Royal Collection items relating to the Republic of Korea. Finally, they attended the State Dinner at Buckingham Palace. 22 NOVEMBER - Will and Cat held a Reception at Windsor Castle. 23 NOVEMBER - The Prince of Wales received Her Majesty Margareta, Custodian of the Romanian Crown and Prince Radu of Romania. Later, he visited The Mercian Regiment on Salisbury Plain. 24 NOVEMBER - He received The Crown Prince of the Sultanate of Oman. 27 NOVEMBER - William held an Investiture at Buckingham Palace. Later, he attended the Tusk Conservation Awards. 28 NOVEMBER - William received Lieutenant Colonel Guy Bartle-Jones (Regimental Adjutant, Welsh Guards). Afterwards, he received submariners. He awrote a letter to Dr. Alex George. 30 NOVEMBER - William and Catherine received Crown Princess Victoria of Sweden and Prince Daniel of Sweden at Windsor Castle. Afterwards, they were we're joined by Victoria and Daniel for the Royal Variety Show.

[wonder-worker]

In the end, politics was an accretion of personal decisions, and that means that the personality of the protagonists cannot be left out of the discussion. It determined not only how they reacted to the situations in which they found themselves, but how others reacted to them. The growing support for Edward IV in 1461 must have owed something to the realisation that he would make an effective king - whereas his father never seems to have been regarded in that light.

--Rosemary Horrox, "Personalities and Politics", The Wars of the Roses (Problems in Focus), edited by A.J Pollard

...When the worst had happened, and civil war was a reality, the overwhelming imperative was to find some way of restoring order. At the level of high politics, what this entailed in practice was a rallying around the de facto king. The Wars of the Roses, far from weakening the monarchy, actually strengthened it, since the king was the only man able to surmount faction. In spite of (Henry VI’s) manifest failings, Richard, duke of York's criticism of the regime commanded little high-level support - and would have commanded even less but for the crown's alienation of the junior branch of the Nevilles, headed by York's brother-in-law the earl of Salisbury. York in fact never did attain the political viability to break the vicious circle of temporary ascendancy and political exclusion. It was his son, Edward, earl of March, who finally mustered enough support to take the throne. He was able to do so in part because the situation had been transformed by the country's descent into open war, which reduced the compulsion to uphold the king as the embodiment of stability. Once it was no longer a matter of averting war, but of stopping it, political opinion began to divide more evenly between Henry VI and his rival. However, the crucial change may well have been York's own death at the Battle of Wakefield late in 1460. In the ensuing months Edward of York was able to present himself as the man who could mend the shattered political community. That self-identification with unity proved immensely potent, and it was not a role which could plausibly have been filled by his father. In the eyes of contemporaries, York had been the begetter of faction: a man tainted by his willingness to go to extremes.

[smolvenger]

The Wedding of the King (Henry V/fem! Reader)

Summary: Henry consents to an arranged marriage to a Lady Y/N. He is enthusiastic about marrying this beautiful woman upon meeting her. But as the wedding day arrives, he learns that she, however, is not.

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: Discussions of the fear of rape, as well as masturbation and sex without any actual smut. Men are gross (but not our boy Henry- he's a king in more ways than one). Medieval era attitudes and attempts at accuracy. Some angst but a lot of fluff. I snuck in references to Hamlet and Six The Musical. A reworking of a speech from Henry IV Part II

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise

A/N: hi guys! This one-shot takes place in the same universe as my miniseries The Twelve Days. But it's not required and hopefully will make sense outside the context. I got an idea from an ask to expand it with some one-shots and to write something more from Hal/Henry's POV. I was in a rush to write the first part bc I Wanted the whole shebang done by January 6th (and then I didn't. Oops.) So I realized I didn't go into detail about the wedding. I should have, because I read a blog post about how medieval-era weddings went and I thought it was fascinating. So this one will focus a LOT on the wedding, as well as before and after. I hope y'all like it- comments and reblogs and asks and dms about my work are appreciated!

The Earl of York spoke of her like that of a Disciple proclaiming the Word.

“This family shall be most advantageous in a match! They have always sworn duty and loyalty to our court. They have served us faithfully and will make excellent allies. I say you must reward them. And there is a daughter they have- the elder one. All of us in Parliament agree that she is the best match to be your queen!” he bragged.

Henry rested his arms on the ends of the throne. It was quite a tumultuous time. In less than a month, not only had he lost a father and gained a crown, but now the court had selected a potential wife.

“What of her? Who is she? What is her name?” He asked.

“Lady Y/F/N of the House of Y/L/N,” the Duke of York reported.

The Duke of Salisbury stepped forward, adding on.

“I met her at a ball hosted by her parents. A most virtuous, good lady. Her parents assure us she is chaste, of course. We know she will obey her parents should they agree to this match. No protestations, no running away, no rebelling- so the marriage will happen smoothly without incident. And, as a man, I must confess- she is beautiful too!

The Duke of York cut back in.

“Additionally, many kings and queens of many countries are your relations. And they say that marrying too much within the family distorts the minds and even bodies of the children from their union. I say, to keep the minds and bodies of your heirs undisturbed, you look to England for your wife. And what luck that we have found Lady Y/N!”

The Chief Justice nodded and then continued.

 “You are young, but so is Lancaster’s hold on the throne. You are only the second one after your father usurped Richard. You must secure your claim by taking a wife and siring an heir to continue your line.”

Perhaps as king, he could refuse them. But there were too many practical advantages. And they were all right. He never expected as he took the throne to marry for love. No, kings married for alliances and heirs. He took in a deep breath.

“Then let it be so. Go to her parents and tell her the betrothal is done now. And then bring them here- I’d like to meet her at least once before we are married,” he ordered.

His powerful voice echoed in the throne room The lords nodded and headed through the wooden doors to begin writing some eager letters.  

Part of him would rest a little easier. He would cement his hold on the throne, indeed.

But who was she? This Y/N? He was bursting with curiosity. Even excitement. The visit was set for the next week. He couldn’t help but count down the days amidst the parliament meetings.

Finally, the day they would be introduced arrived. He greeted each servant with a smile. As he breakfasted with his brothers- The Princes John, Thomas, and Humphrey- he announced.

“You all have a sister now. But she will also be your queen and you will still respect her-she is already part of our family! I asked you all to think of me as brother and father- think of her like a sister and mother.”

They nodded their brown heads and gossiped about her and her family.

An hour before, he went to his chambers. His attendants dressed him in the dark cloak with the jeweled clasp, the one from his father. Such dark, dreary colors he had to wear on what should be a joyous day. He looked out to where a bird chirruped right outside the stained-glass window.  

“I would like some fresher air, let me walk the gardens for a minute,” he ordered.

He would meet his betrothed- not only a wife, a queen! In only an hour! He paced about the grounds, trying to urge his heart to still. How could he woo this woman? Many men won women over by saying pretty poetry that made them swoon. Others danced so well that one could see the love in the ladies’ eyes. He could do neither.

What did ladies like? He looked down to notice the flowers in the gardens. Most ladies liked flowers, so it was foolproof. Some still grew despite the October cold.  But there was a small purple wildflower that caught his eye. He bent down and picked it up. That should be her gift!  He could give her jewels. Offer lands. But that would only show him off- no. There would be time after that.  A flower would fit for his first gift. He would show humility. His honor for the union. His honor for her.

The Lord of Exeter, his uncle, hurried through and approached.

“Your grace…they’ve arrived!” he urged with a smile.

Henry walked through to the inside, his guards following with their tall spears and silver helmets. His brothers were just behind among the attendants of lords. Eager to peek at the woman about to be their sister-in-law.

He paused before the throne room. Knowing she would be there. Just between those doors was England’s queen! He took a moment to breathe in and savor the last minute of being a bachelor. The old man with a black hat and a large cane stood before, awaiting the signal.

Exhaling deeply, Henry then nodded. The old man tapped the staff on the floor. The doors opened to the throne room.

The old man announced, in a booming voice “his royal majesty, Henry the Fifth!”

The crowd in the stone throne room turned to him. Bowing heads low as he passed through them. Which one was she-which one? There among the crowd, was a woman in a decorative pink dress. Two people- her parents- gestured for her to walk forward.

It was Her.   

She bowed her head down. She looked up at him, hands folded before her, right into his eyes. Henry felt frozen where he stood.

They were right.  She was beautiful. Truly beautiful to him. He felt a shock. The punch of desire, run through his body, his spine, his stomach,  his groin. He felt pulled to her like a moon drew the current of the ocean. He took a step closer. She looked him in the eyes, but he noticed her shoulder raise up.

He knew he frightened ladies. Most shivered in his approach. Prior to being king, despite his title, the higher-born princesses he met scoffed in his face when he was introduced. They knew his exploits as Prince Hal. When he went to Eastcheap, the Lower born women bowed without speaking. And Tavern Women were the ones who loved him- because he paid them to lie with their mouths and for him to lie in their beds.

In her presence, he almost forgot to speak. Her eyes reduced him to be not a king but a silent schoolboy. Then he remembered his words, rolling out his tongue.

“Lady Y/L/N. I greet you, most fair lady.”

“Your majesty,” she voiced. She bowed again for good measure.

God’s blood, he loved the sound of her voice already. He could hear her say that all day. The wedding couldn’t be soon enough.

He reached out his hand and she accepted it. He moved it so her palm faced upwards. He put the wildflower into her hand, right on the palm. Then he moved her fingers to curl over it. Her eyes went big.

“May I kiss your hand and call you, my queen?” he asked.

She nodded. Rather than lifting her hand, he bowed his head low. Like the flower, he would offer humility to this woman. He kissed the hand that held the plant and then returned up.

That dinner, she was placed to sit next to him. Her parents across. Forks clicked on plates on the wooden table. Her elder brother leaned towards him.

“Your majesty, her father and I will have her trousseau ready. We will make sure everything is in order for her dowry as well- we will speak to you after dinner about it in detail.”

Her trousseau; Her clothes. The clothes that soon enough, every night he would remove off this beautiful lady, kiss her bare flesh. And for the first time in months, and he would…no, now was not the time for that sort of thought.

Henry nodded his head. He still felt himself blush.

“That is all good...So, tell me, Lord Y/L/N. How are things with the rest of your family?” he asked the father.

“My mother is sickly, and it troubles me, else she’d be there," the father explained.

Would Y/N make a comment about that? He looked at her-no she didn’t. The utensils clattered against the plates as they ate. Click, click, click.

“The Duke of Lancaster-John, here,- encountered Hotspur's fellow rebels a little while ago- he has grown into quite a warrior- John, would you to tell us that?” Henry prodded.

John nodded and told them all about what happened. She made no reply. Click, click, click, went her fork and knife.

“What do you think of this, my lady?” Henry asked, turning to her.

The lady looked up. And then she nodded.

“I…I think…I think it is well. The Duke of Lancaster did very well,” She answered politely.

“Do you like the food, my lady?” he asked.

“Yes, I was hungry,” she answered.

She only spoke in short sentences. But even that was enough for him to hear her voice.

“Are you excited about the wedding?” he asked.

“I…I am. I only hope it shall please his majesty. And my father and mother as well,” she replied, eyeing them.

“It shall, Lady Y/L/N, it shall,” Henry assured her.

Her plate was cleared. She set down her utensils and wiped the remnants off her lips with her napkin. What would those pretty lips be like to kiss? How would they feel on him? In November, when the wedding was set, perhaps he would find out.

“This castle will be your home soon, what do you think? You’ll have access to the chapel, libraries, and large gardens- the queen always receives a stable full of beautiful horses all for her. What do you make of that?” he asked.

“It…it sounds nice,” she answered.

She was only shy. It only made her more endearing to him. Perhaps with time, she would open up.

“Our daughter enjoys dancing. And she is accomplished at sewing,” the father added.

“Do you?” Henry asked.

“Yes, my lord.” She answered.

“I’m sure you will have all the time you like to sew as you want when we're married. And there will be balls for you to dance for hours- would you like that?” he added on.

“Yes, my lord,” she repeated.

Once the dowry was established, the Lord's Y/L/N- father and son-bowed low and kissed his hand. Far more formal than the usual masculine embrace of about-to-be in-laws. As they returned to the crowd about to set off, Henry approached his intended and kissed her hand one last time.

“I will see you anon, my queen. Sleep well and stay in good health,” he said.

“And may you stay in good health, also,” she replied.

That night, he felt himself burning. Every time he tried to write a letter, he found he couldn't find the words to write to her. He paced about his chambers in his night shift. Excitement, as well as arousal, bubbled inside him. Soon, she would be here. She was only shy for a first meeting- he knew he had the crown on him! That was natural! But that beautiful woman would be on his bed. Opening more of her thoughts to him, as well as her legs. There would be nothing on her, nothing on him either. Then he would lay on her. And for the first time in months, he would enjoy the comforts only a woman could give him.

The memory of touching her hand, her bare skin, made him hard during that those nights before the wedding. He had no taste for prostitutes or even concubines anymore. They weren't her. So, in the privacy of his chambers, with the memory of her touch, he merely imagined her there. He closed his eyes, and relieved himself with his hand, whispering her name like a prayer.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The day of the November Wedding arrived at long last.

Minstrels began to play on their lutes and drums as soon as he left his chambers. He embraced each of his brothers and then entered to begin the procession to the church outside the castle. Henry was draped in his own red cloak with gold in it with a rich red doublet and pants. They walked out to the courtyard just outside the castle entrance.

As he walked outside, the London crowd gaped and gathered to see the line of people forming the party. Already, he could hear the loud bells from the church signaling the start of the wedding. One group walked entered from outside the gates and the minstrels began playing even louder. His heart raced and he smiled noting a white blur as it got closer- the bride.

“A most joyous day of days- I welcome all of you!” he announced before his people.

 They paused as the father approached with the about-to-be queen on his arm. He looked down and opened an arm to greet her.

But when he approached the head of the party, his feet stopped where they were.

 She did look very pretty in her white wedding dress. It was trimmed with gold that shone when she passed sunlight. Her father stood, grinning right next to her. But there were circles beneath her eyes. He saw her hands shake as she clutched a bouquet of flowers. She was blinking rapidly as if to fight off crying. And she wasn’t smiling. 

The English people and court were witnessing an exhausted, terrified, timid young woman on the verge of tears rather than a radiant and smiling Royal bride.

Her father placed her on Henry’s left side, as Eve came from Adam’s left. John, as the Best Man, checked his sword in his hilt. He was decked in armor and a red cloak, his sword by his side. It was tradition and not even royals were beneath it. John then mounted a horse to trot next to them. He was armed just in case the bride was kidnapped. But as Henry looked at her, she might have welcomed it.

They began to walk towards the church, the minstrels playing against the bells from the cathedral. Her gaze was always low, she never looked at him. When her eyes met his, she still didn’t smile. She backed off from even his cloak brushing her.

She seemed to shrink before the doors to the large chapel. It was as if her wedding dress regressed her into a little child. Even though everyone knew she was a woman grown and deemed fit for wedding and bedding.

His in-laws and behind, including his two youngest brothers and his uncle.

The priest for the ceremony would be the Archbishop of Canterbury an old man with a scratchy white beard. He held up a ring and asked in a scratchy voice.

“Does the bride’s father permit the marriage?”

“He does,” answered the father.

“Are the bride and groom related by blood?”

“They are not. He is of the house of Lancaster. She is of the house of Y/L/N,” answered the father.

The interview went on until the priest nodded his head. John swung off his horse. The doors swung open.

He took note of her, following her steps. She moved slow. Yes, it was ceremony. Henry partially wondered if she was delaying arriving at the altar just a little. When they arrived, her father caught up to be by her side. She handed him the flowers. John was by Henry’s side. Both escorted them to face the priest. The chapel was filled with the various courtiers. Members of her family were scattered amongst the pews as well.

The Archbishop took her hand and lifted it up. He placed it in Henry’s, he made sure to make his own hand light, as not to grip her. He noticed her chest slowly rising and down, deepening the breaths.

“Your grace, you will make your vows to the bride.”

He looked her in the eye. Trying to soften his voice. Maybe that would comfort her. He repeated after the priest.

“I will have and hold you in bed and at the table, be you fair or ugly, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.” He vowed.

She gazed up at him like a doe. She blinked. He noticed her jaw unclench. The archbishop delivered a brief sermon on the sacred nature of marriage. He then blessed the ring and handed it to Henry.

Henry held the ring and repeated if after the priest.

“In the name of the Father…”

He slipped it on and off her first finger.

“…And the Son…”

He slipped it on and off her second finger.

“…And the Holy Ghost…”

On and off the third finger.

 “…I thee wed.”

He then placed it over the fourth finger of her left hand. She looked down at the golden band. Admiring it.

“Now, both of you kneel before the Altar for Mass,” instructed the priest.

She let go of his hand and they followed suit. Her father, John, and the Archibishop brought out a canopy, a long, white fabric. It was placed over his and the lady’s head.

“Kyrie eleison…”  sang the church choir before them.

 She was close. So close. Hidden betwixt this sheet. But not the passionate bedsheets of lust. The chaste, sacred canopy of church. The sunlight from the windows and candles filtered over the white sheet and he could see her.

He looked down at her. She looked up at him. Her hands had been folded to pray. But here, they could be granted some privacy. At least during the day. Of course, it was right before the Sanctus, in the pause between liturgy. When he shifted his hands forward, she backed off a little. She didn’t want to be touched now. He had to use words.

“How are you?” he whispered.

“I’m tired, my lord,” she replied.

He gave her a small smile.

“I am too.”

He gave her a wink. She did break one small smile at that.

“We…we need to go back to praying. They might hear.” she prodded.

“I agree,” he replied.

Finally, after the Amen, the attendants took off the canopy, revealing them. The archbishop returned the lady’s hand to join the kings. Then he went to Henry and kissed his forehead.

“I Bestow you the Kiss of Peace. You may give it to your Bride.”

He leaned down and lightly, so lightly, pecked her cheek. The archbishop made the sign of the cross over the couple. John then went over and handed a tiara to Henry. Henry placed it over her head. A wedding and a brief coronation in one.

“I now bless and pronounce thee, King Henry the Fifth and Queen Y/N, husband and wife," the archbishop announced.

The choir sang “agnus dei” as they both walked out together.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It was a lovely feast. There were love songs sung by the talented minstrels. Flutes lilted as ale and wine decked the plates. Flowers and gold were everywhere in the throne room, converted into a dining hall. There were more meats, loaves of bread, fruits, and delicacies than the king himself could name. As he finished off a leg of chicken, he checked in on his new wife next to him.

She could only stare out quietly and sip on her goblet. She had not said a word to him since they were served dinner.

Her mother arrived, curtsying at the table.

“Your grace, I would like a word in private with my daughter,” the mother announced.

“Then that you shall…” Henry nodded, gesturing for his new wife to be dismissed.

The mother led her out to the hall outside the dining hall. But Hal himself walked up, saying he was going to speak to the Duke of Burgundy who traveled all the way from France to the wedding.

Then he stopped at a corner. Standing right outside the hall- his ears peeled for the conversation between the women. He then stole glances at them sometimes, when he knew they wouldn't look.

“Y/N, my dear…you are a married woman now. We’ve discussed the specifics. But you must be reminded. There comes the…responsibility you bear. That is, to bear him on you..this would happen no matter who you married.”

“Yes, mother.” She nodded.

“The act is…not pleasant. It is painful when he…enters you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do. I’ve been thinking about it all day,” she replied.

“I trust you are chaste.”

“I swear on it, I am.” She replied.

“There will be bleeding and pain the first time. Men tend to be…enthusiastic. They are full of lust. It is their nature, how God made them. But considering who your husband is…Tonight, it will especially be expected. You will fulfill the very reason you were brought here. You will do your duty to your husband. And you will do it tonight. You know how important it is for the king to have a male heir.”

“Yes, I do, mother.”

“The act is... It is uncomfortable. It is awkward. But it is your duty. As a wife, you must do it. You will be brave and do what you have sworn to do not only for your husband- but for your king, and for England…”

“I promise, I won’t let anyone down. I don’t want to disappoint you or the king…I won't be a disappointment, I won't!” she insisted.

 “You won’t shut him off. You will enter the king’s bed…lift your skirt, spread your legs, and let it happen. It won’t be that hard. Just lie down on the bed- that’s all you have to do. It’s what he expects of you, and what he will want of you…men on their wedding night expect this. And the king will be no different.”

“Yes, mother.”

She touched her daughter’s arm to comfort her.

“Many men are…excited to bed their wives the first time. And no doubt, with such a vigorous, virile young king as we hear he is, he shall be. So tonight, it might not take long. Sometimes, men get so excited to perform the act that after they enter you…it ends quickly. It will only be a few minutes. Then you can go to sleep and go about as normal. And then you’ll have a baby to comfort you - doesn’t that sound nice?”

“It does.”

The young queen then touched her mother’s sleeve, her knuckles popping out as her hand turned into a grip.

“Mother will he….force himself on me?” she asked.

She paused.

“I don’t know…. And considering he’s the king…honestly, I’m not sure if you have a choice in the matter. When Henry says you and now…it’s you and now.”

He heard her start to cry. Her mother then hugged her, wiping the tears from her daughter's eyes.

“But you’ll live here in this wonderful castle, you will have dozens of servants and a baby someday…and you can always write to us…”

She broke the hug and then held her shoulder to look her in the eye.

“I say this only to prepare you. You will do your duty to the King -yes?”

“I will, mother. I won’t fail England. Or father and you.”

“Good. We are proud of you. And like I said, it will hurt…but it will be quick. Just a few minutes of pain, and then it’ll be done.”

He then turned his head and walked away. He asked for some ale and asked after the rotund, red-cheeked duke,  per his promise. Noting when mother and daughter returned to their seats. He then got back to his.

“Would you like to try the beef they made for us? They spiced it well, my lady,” he offered.

Her plate, loaded with food, was untouched.

“No thank you, my lord…” she replied.

“Do you feel sick? Do you need to retire?” he asked.

That last one did not come out the way he intended. Her eyes flashed up at him in a glare.

“I do not feel sick, my lord,” she replied firmly.

There, in that voice, was a touch of how she really felt. The flash of anger. The look she gave him, with a frown and crossed eyebrows. There. She was just like every other lady. She was frightened of him.

More than that-He revolted her. He disgusted her.

In short, she hated him.

If she wasn’t under the pressure of a royal marriage, if she wasn’t under the guidance of the court, the church, and her mother’s words…she would bolt from his side. She would lock her doors tight. She would avoid him. And if he offered his hand up to even walk chastely with him through the grounds, she would swat it away, screaming, and fleeing off.

As king, Henry could have anything. He could have spices imported from the East. He could command armies to march and invade lands for him. He had his own stable full of horses and hunting dogs that were all his. He could have exotic monkeys as pets. He could eat feasts every night and throw parties as he wanted. He could have the money stowed for the church if he wanted. He could have every other woman in England as his concubines. He could lay heavy taxes and have all the gold and wealth of the people in England.

But he could not have a wife who loved him.

If only the feast would hurry up. There was no way he could be alone with her. To talk to her. Perhaps to calm her down, let her know who he really was. Not until it was time for dismissal. But he found his plate, though half-eaten, had satiated him. He set down his fork. He saw his wife’s eyes grow big at the sight.

He turned over to the Earl of Exeter standing by him.

“Uncle … I think it’s time the queen and I excuse ourselves.”

A servant brought away the plate of untouched food from the young queen’s table. Her head turned his direction. She placed her fists onto the cloth napkin and clutched it.

The Lord of Exeter gave a naughty smile and drew his hand up. The minstrels stopped playing and the guests stopped chatting.

“Everyone, the king is going to retire with his bride to his chambers. It is now the hour where-to quote that Danish song- he will open the chamber door, and she will enter a maid and leave a maid no more,”

There was some snickering from a few male courtiers. A knot formed in Henry’s throat. The bride kept her head down and curled into her chair. She looked like a dog scared of its violent master.  

“The Bishop, the Lords, and her servants shall follow them to their rooms to sleep…or to be at it like rabbits…”

“Uncle, it is my wedding, let me speak,” Henry interrupted.

The Earl of Exeter closed his mouth and bowed his head. Henry stood up. He lifted his goblet in a toast.

“The rest of you shall stay here and drink another cup-for the blessing of the royal marriage. I am now not only a king, but a husband as well. We thank you all for celebrating with us today. We shall ask for your prayers for God to protect us both. May He lead us to wisdom and kindness with each other as we enter a new, sacred covenant…to health of the Queen of England!”

The crowd repeated “to the health of the queen!” as they all drank.

With a shaking hand, the queen took the goblet and downed water-maybe wishing it was wine. She then went up, and before the servants could escort her, she went down hugged her sister and her mother.

Then they gathered in a circle, lit torches, and walked down to his chambers. Minstrels beside them walked behind, playing away as one relayed a bawdy song about keys and locks with holes. The night had gotten dark and only that light was around. Behind were Henry’s three younger brothers. The Chief Justice, in a way, the surrogate father for the four Lancaster brothers, followed suit.

Down they walked. They entered the king’s room. Once it was father’s-and now it was his.

“Thank you all," he wished the party as they went inside.

Servants arrived and undressed them both. But he kept noticing many of the men leering at the bride as her ladies began to undress her. She eyed them nervously- a gazelle before a pack of hungry lions.

Henry then asked for a screen to be brought. A page boy arrived and set it up. She scurried behind it. One lord sighed in discontentment. Henry shot him a glare.

She would not suffer. If there was one thing he could do, he would not make her suffer. And he would remind them all who was really in charge. And she would know who it was she was really married to.

His jaw lowered when she emerged from the screen. She had no jewels or crown. She only had a simple white shift. Her feet were bare. She was raw, natural…and still beautiful. He wanted to embrace her in his arms. Kiss her head. Assure her all would be well. Protect her…

She was shivering. It was a November night, deep in Autumn with winter right in its nip. She raised her arms to hug herself. On her skin, he could see gooseflesh.

He brought her father’s old cloak and draped it over it. He offered his hand. She did not swat it away. She accepted it and he led her to sit down.

He then ordered all of them out.

“Now the rest of you- please leave the room…and do not stay at the door if you are not the guards…”

“But your majesty, we must make sure the marriage is consummated. You could at most close the drapes around the bed, but we must make sure you do your duty to your wife. For St. George and the sake of-“

“Yes, that is tradition. But seeing as I am the king now, here is a new one. I ask that all of you leave and go to your own rooms.” Henry protested.

They looked at each other in confusion.

The same lord spoke, “But how will we know if-“

“I’m sure once we discover she is pregnant, you will know the marriage is consummated. Now leave!”

No, he was the King of England now. Even as a prince, the guards had no choice but to let him out to visit Eastcheap. They couldn’t stop him. And every butcher and brawler bowed to him as he walked the streets.

And these earls would not be voyeurs on his wedding night. No matter how much they wanted to. Let them return to their rooms and pleasure themselves over imagining it. They would not see what would really happen.

And that poor girl would not be tormented before them.

 She flinched when he turned to her, but he assured her. Then, slowly, she placed her hand into his. She felt warm, soft to touch. She confided that she was not ready to consummate the marriage.

“You don’t need to worry. Nothing will happen tonight…”

She let out a deep exhale. He poured her a glass from the jug fill of spiced wine. It was tradition for the husband and wife to share it before they went to bed. It smelled of cinnamon. As he poured his own cup and sipped it, he could taste it’s slight kick in it’s dry flavor.

“You didn’t eat anything at the feast. Would you like me to ask for a plate?” he suggested.

“Yes, my lord.”

When he went up to the guard, he quietly requested “Please bring a plate of food for the queen. The feast leftovers will do.”

The guard raised his eyebrows in shock. This was not the sound he expected to hear that night. But he dipped his head and went down. But she drank her wine and ate all of her food.

She fell asleep curled up beneath the blankets on the bed. Finally, after everything, she was at peace. He finished the letters he had to write at his desk. He kept peeking over to see the bump in the blankets and it’s slow breathing. He went back up to the guards.

“I’d like to delay the morning mass for later. Let’s say around ten.  It was a long day. She needs to rest…and so do I.”

The guard nodded.

He went into the bed. It was big enough to where he wouldn’t be able to touch her. He curled up on his side, listening to her breathing as he closed the bed curtains and his eyes.

They slept in. The mid-morning burst through the room, through the curtains.  He awoke before her. She was still asleep. He paused to admire her through the slivers of light.

The attendants arrived, surprised to find the king and queen turned to the opposite sides, away from each other. He wanted to shake her awake, but his hand stopped. No, he would not touch her when she did not want to be touched. He let a lady in waiting wake her.

They sat in the castle's smaller chapel for morning prayers. They waited for it to start when a bishop would arrive to lead them. He sat next to her on the bench on the first row. He turned to her.

“Did you sleep better?”

“Aye, my lord.”

“That’s good…may I eat with you, my lady?”

“Aye, my lord.”

At breakfast, they sat at the table. He was on one side with the high chair, just as his father did before him. She sat on the other side. Close and far away.

“I don’t think I ever gave you a wedding gift," he said.

“I received many wedding gifts, my lord.”

“The court isn’t around you…you can call me Henry," he suggested.

“I received many wedding gifts…Henry.” She corrected.

“Is there anything you would…you would like? Name it, and it’s yours.” He offered,

She looked down, a bit hesitant. Then she opened her mouth.

“I’d like some new dresses if you don’t mind…my trousseau was full of my old ones. I’d like ones that would fit me now that I’m…that I’m queen, please.”

“Oh, of course! I will alert several people. You can have as many as you would like!"

“Thank you, Henry.”

He felt himself blush a little at the sounder of her voice saying his name. He ate another bit of food. The lute in the corner began playing.

“Y/N…do you have a favorite color?” he asked.

She blinked. She answered him. He kept note.

“Mine is black…black and red,” Henry replied.

It was small, but a start.

He asked to enter her room in December. It was the day after the Feast of St. Stephen. They would eat dinner together. The Earl of Warwick had to be the messenger this time. He blushed and nodded. Everyone knew when the king asked to dine with the queen, it was expected for them to make love after the meal. But he would not expect that. He just wanted to be alone with her. To talk to her even more, with the guards at the door and not around the wall.

He had finished studying and his brothers and the chief justice saw them off. As he knocked and entered, the door closed. The Cheif Justice began chatting with John as they walked off to the halls. Yet the two youngest Lancaster brothers, stayed behind, peeling an ear to the door.

“My lady Y/N,” Henry greeted her.

“My lord and king,” she replied. “The dinner is almost ready- they’re about to bring it in. I’m sorry the table is bare…”

“Don’t be. We can wait.”

The servants brought in the food through the door and left. But as they walked off, they noticed Thomas and Humphrey remaining. They looked at each other and kept their ears at the door. The two little brothers kept spying on the couple until there was the sound of footsteps from the hall.

"Where are they? Where are the Dukes of Clarence and Gloucester?! cried the Chief Justice.

He arrived with John right outside the door. The boys jumped and returned to their feet with obviously fake innocence. John crossed his arms at them.  The Chief Justice looked red beneath his long, white beard. He huffed through his bulbous nose. He put his arms akimbo.

"What are you doing outside the queen's chambers?"

The boys looked at each other. Their lips were quivering.

“We just…just wanted to…to know…what happens, you know? The... Act. Father never got the chance to tell us what happens on the Wedding Night so…we just…” Humphrey explained.

The Chief Justice shook his head. John turned to them.

“I’ll explain it to them.” He offered.

He walked forward, and with both hands, yanked the ears of his two little brothers. They both went “urgh!” with the pain as he dragged them both away from the door. Off to give them the fateful talk without overhearing anything in person.

The guards stiffened their jaws to keep from smiling. The Chief Justice followed them.

If they managed to stay, they would have been disappointed. The “Act” did not happen that night. They only talked.

“My father compared me to Richard…Before I made an arrogant remark, and he struck me…” Henry recalled.

“Well, serves him right!” she said.

That made him laugh. They talked more as the ate.

“Has it occurred to you, Y/N, that you’re the Queen of one of the largest, and most wonderful countries of the world? And if they bow before me, they should bow before you,” Henry said. Her eyes widened and she blinked slowly. Processing the information.

Then they went to bed. But only to sleep. She told Henry she wasn’t ready yet. But they lay closer together.

“Y/N…has a man ever held you…held you in his arms….” he wondered.

“Why would you ask me that?”

“I wanted…wanted to know…I can touch you without…without…”

“Are you asking to hold me?” she asked.

“It’s cold. And you get cold easily if I recall.”

“Then yes, you can hold me…” she confirmed.

He wrapped his arms around her and he felt her arms reach around him. She felt so warm and soft. She smelled of the lavender they must have put in her bath today.

“Y/N…can I kiss you…” he asked.

“You’ve kissed my hand," she replied.

“On the lips, I mean.” Henry specified.

That felt bold. But this time, she did not object.

“Yes, you can,” she answered.

He raised his large hand to cup her smooth cheek, but as light as if she was made of glass. She looked him in his eyes, eyes he could stare at until they consumed him. As they laid their heads against the pillows, he craned his neck forward and kissed her. She tasted like wine and sauce. He felt himself blush red hot and could feel the breath from her nose. His heart burst forward and began to race with excitement. He was glad he was laying down, his knees felt weak from her lips. Finally, finally, he did it. He kissed her. And he knew that he would give her half his kingdom and his throne too if she blessed him with her lips again and asked for them.

He let go, the lips smacking quietly as they parted. The fire crackled as white puffs of snowflakes fell outside the window.

“Goodnight Henry,” she said.

“Goodnight. Y/N.”

He looked down on her as she slept. Far from the bride with shaking hands and blinking away tears in November. So peaceful. So warm. So safe. Henry felt something fill up his chest as he watched her quiet breathing again. Only this time, she was nestled close to him.

Once he was certain she was fast asleep, He then whispered lowly. Words like those he once spoke over the father he thought was dead.

“My gracious lady…my wife…”

She did not stir to awaken. She stayed in the realm of dreams, where she could not hear him. That made speaking these words easier at the moment.

“This is a sleep which gives much rest to those most troubled. You most of all. What is due from me is fidelity and acts of gentle patience, which nature, love…”

He leaned down, and lightly, oh so lightly, pecked her forehead.

“And marital tenderness I will give you, plenteously.”

The wind whistled as more snow well.

“Your only debt is to have someone who will treat you well-which as your husband I owe you. So, rest, sweet Y/N. And I will stay here I will guard you. Until I fall asleep beside you.”

He then prayed. Looking up, a small smile on his face.

“Dear Lord, I thank you…I thank you for her…she will be good for me…she will teach me so much…let me be a good man for her…”

She wouldn’t hate him. He would do everything he could to make sure she didn’t hate him. If he could not be loved, he would be liked. Perhaps he could be liked. And then, one day, one day at last…she would love him.

He smiled as he fell asleep, embracing his wife.