Chapter Text
April 22, 1540
“Sweet Kitty, if it is more than two babies, I will never forgive you,” Anne muttered through gritted teeth as if her cousin’s speculation that she could be carrying four babies somehow had spoken it to existence.
Kitty only smiled at her as she held her hand, not taking Anne’s words seriously. “I shall accept whatever punishment you will give me, Your Majesty, for I am certain all will turn out right in the end.”
“Here comes the first baby, Your Majesty,” the midwife declared.
Anne moaned breathlessly as made a great big push, allowing her sixth child to come into the world.
After the baby’s bottom was slapped and the umbilical cord was cut, Lady Margery Horseman was charged with cleaning the baby up. Before she could announce the sex, Anne was in the middle of pushing what she hoped to be her last child out of her, squeezing Kitty’s and Mary’s hands as she did so. Thankfully, it seemed that this baby would not be followed by anymore and Anne could lean back onto her pillows, recovering from the pain as she waited for the Tudor Twins to be presented to her.
“I am pleased to announce that Your Majesty has birthed two sons!” Mistress Collins proclaimed as Margery, and she presented both babes to the Queen.
Two sons. She had four sons then. Oh God had truly blessed her with so many miracles. Seven children in almost seven years of marriage. If that was not a sign of God’s favor, Anne wasn’t sure what was.
“Prince George and Prince William,” Anne declared as her sons were put in her arms. She and Henry had discussed it length and they both decided William was better as it referred to William the Conqueror as well-paid homage to another Boleyn member this time Anne’s grandfather.
The Countess of Salisbury smiled at her sister, so pleased for her. Father always said Anne was destined for greatness but not even he could have realized just how great she would be.
What other woman could birth triplets and then twins with two single babies in between? What another woman could survive all that?
Anne’s eyes fluttered shut, drifting off. In a hushed whisper, Mary directed her ladies to take the babies to their cribs and maneuver Anne into a position where she was lying down.
Luckily, the queen was clearly in a deep sleep and was thankfully not disturbed by it. Mary stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. “Sleep, sweet sister, and when you wake up, you find England celebrating your victory once again,” she whispered softly, before turning to clear the room, deciding only she and the midwife would remain to make sure that Anne remained healthy as she slept. As she did so she noticed that Kitty had reluctantly handed a smug Cathy some coins. “Girls, what was that?”
“Nothing, Mama,” Cathy lied badly, only for her to look abashed at her mother’s stern glare. “Kitty thought it would be two girls or more and I thought it would be two boys or more.”
Mary sighed, trying to fight a smile on her face as she dismissed the girls. She was not sure whether Kitty was a bad influence on her daughter or not, but she couldn’t help but be reminded of the long-gone days when she and her sister were young maidens at the French court, ladies of the late Mary Tudor and then Queen Claude.
Baron Cromwell was a part of the small group of men standing outside the Queen’s birth chambers when he heard the glorious news.
For not only were the two boys’ proof of England’s continued success, but they also meant more diplomatic relations. The Swedish Queen had a daughter just a few months older than Prince George and Prince William, or perhaps the youngest daughter of Renée of France would make a fine bride. Of course, they could make a match with another one of the German Princes.
The fact that another two brides would mean more money for the royal treasury would be most grand after nearly going bankrupt preparing for this war. Thankfully, the proceeds from dissolution from the monasteries had given a great deal back to the coffers, something even Queen Anne was grateful for.
Cromwell remembered how she had argued with him about using their reformation for monetary gain, only to become contrite when he showed her how much they would need to keep up their spending habits.
Afterwards, Anne had not only began making cuts in her household costs, but she also managed to convince Henry to at least sell a few of his things, reminding him that they could always buy them back but for now they needed to focus on the defense of their kingdom. Shockingly the prideful monarch agreed, seeing sense in his wife’s words, realizing that the emperor’s defeat was far more important than a few expensive trinkets.
Anne had even asked Cromwell if there was any way they could clear Henry’s debt so her son would not inherit it. Although it was impossible for them to completely clear the massive debt Henry had occurred over the years in wartime, Cromwell was certain if he and Anne put their heads together, they could at least find some ways to pay it off in small chunks and use the money left over from the war effort to make some good investments.
It would take time and effort, but the baron had hope that when the war was over, England would continue to thrive and one day when King Henry IX would rise to the throne, his kingdoms would continue to prosper.
The children were woken up by the noise of the cannon fire and fireworks. When they were told that their mother had birthed not one but two brothers for them, they demanded to be taken to see her at once.
“I am afraid that your mother is sleeping, Your Highnesses,” Kat Champernowne explained, having sent a maid to see if the Queen was up to receiving visitors so shortly after childbirth. She had doubted very much that she would be but for the children’s sake she had checked.
“How could she possibly sleep in all this noise?” Geoffrey asked incredulously. Not even he could sleep through it and Lady Bryan had once complained that when he slept, he was dead to the world.
“She is very tired after giving birth to your baby brothers,” answered Kat.
“She didn’t look tired after giving birth to Annette,” Harry protested.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes at her brother’s denseness. “We saw her two days after she gave birth, so she probably had regained her strength by then,” she pointed out in a tone that made it clear she thought that was blatantly obvious.
Harry scowled at her but said nothing, knowing she was right.
“Can we at least see our new brothers?” Marian pleaded hopefully, happy to have two more playmates added to nursery even if they would take a while to be big enough to play.
According to Geoff, it had taken ages for her and Annette to finally grow from being screaming, crying, smelly bundles who rarely did anything else to become more mobile and talkative.
Marian was certain her brother was exaggerating as her dolls didn’t do much and they weren’t loud or smelly.
“I think we should wait until tomorrow. Right now, you should be following your mother’s example and going back to sleep,” Kat told them gently.
By now the fireworks and cannon fire had stopped although they would still be many celebrations going on in the streets of London. As it was not quite midnight, it was best to get the little ones back to bed so they wouldn’t be tired and cranky tomorrow.
“But we’re too excited to sleep!” Harry complained, ignoring the fact that Annette was yawning loudly behind him.
“The faster you go to sleep, the faster it will be morning and you can see your new brothers,” entreated.
Harry looked pensive. “Will we get to see Mama as well?” he questioned, eyeing Lady Troy suspiciously as if he expected her to be thrown by that question or perhaps, she would let them stay up if it turned out that their mother was still too tired to receive visitors.
“We’ll see about that tomorrow. After all, only your mother knows whether she will be feeling better and it is not like we can ask her now,” responded Blanche.
Harry’s shoulders sagged as he was certain that if Anne knew of his request, she would send for him and his siblings despite still not feeling well enough.
If she needed all the rest she could get, then it would be selfish of Harry to try and bargain a visit with her for his own rest. With that thought in mind, he bid the governesses and his sister’s good night before trudging off to his bed chambers with Geoffrey close behind.
April 25, 1540
Spain
“As far as I am concerned, I got lucky,” Philip declared haughtily. “Who needs that ugly girl in Portugal when I can have a pretty Polish princess like Catalina Jagellón?”
It took all of Maximilian’s willpower does not roll his eyes. A year ago, Philip had been declaring Maria Manuel as the prettiest princess in all of Christendom. A year ago, he would have been outraged if his father had instead insisted, he marry the youngest daughter of the Polish King picked because she was a distantly related to the Hapsburgs, a daughter of a Catholic King and she was only few months older than Philip.
No, the thirteen-year-old was merely speaking out of spite. Not only had King John decided to break the betrothal, Maria had sided with her father, responding to Philip’s angry letter, insinuating that her stepmother was the cause of the broken betrothal and perhaps her brother’s deaths as well, that her stepmother was a good Christian woman and if Philip was the type of man to spread vile rumors against a woman who had been like a mother to her stepchildren than she was glad that they were not to marry.
Oh, Philip had not liked that. Maximilian did not know if his cousin had replied but he was soon declaring to all who listened that his aunt must be weeping to know what kind of people Anna of Cleves was turning her husband and daughter into and how Pope Paul must have gotten a message from God that Maria of Portugal would make a bad wife and that’s why he granted John of Portugal’s request.
Even Mary thought he was laying it on a bit thick.
However not all of Philip’s remarks were just out of anger for being rejected. No, a portrait of the fourteen-year-old princess had been sent to Spain and Philip had become quite enamored with the girl’s image, demanding a miniature be made so he could always carry it around with him.
Although it was against traditions for the youngest daughter to get married before the oldest, Emperor Charles had convinced the old Polish King by pointing out that Sweden and Denmark might go after Poland next, and they would need allies if they wanted to keep the heretics from stealing more land.
In Maximilian’s opinion, it would serve his uncle far better to marry Philip to one of the German Catholic Dukes to stop them from being swayed by John Fredrick’s promise of lower taxes, religious freedom, and more independence if they joined the fight for German independence.
But his uncle would do no less than a princess and therefore in three years, Philip would marry Catalina of Poland and then they would use Poland’s help against the Schmalkaldic League.
Maximilian was broken out of his thoughts by a heartbroken wail. He realized very quickly it was his wife. Without another word, Maximilian ran down the corridor towards his wife’s rooms, a thousand different scenarios running through his mind, each more terrifying than the last.
Mary was lying in the fetal position on the ground, ignoring her ladies attempts to comfort her as she continued to sob.
Maximilian ushered the ladies away before getting down to his knees and wrapping his arms around her. She sat up and buried her face in his chest. “What is it, my love? What has happened? Are you well? Is it Isabel?”
“The concubine has delivered twins. Twin boys,” Mary cried, calming down now that she was in her husband’s arms although she was still crying and there was still a note of hysteria in her voice. “Why? Why is she, the sinful Jezebel, so lucky? My mother, my sainted forsaken mother, had seven pregnancies and only two of them came to term and of those two, only one survived. That witch now has seven children, four of them boys, out of four pregnancies. How could this happen? How could God let this happen?”
“It is not for us to question God’s will,” Maximilian repeated the words his own mother was fond of saying. “He must have a plan. Perhaps He is testing your faith to be sure that you be a just and pious queen in the face of heresy.”
“I was once so certain that was the case and now, I am not so sure. What if my father was right? What if God is on his side? What if I made a mistake fleeing England and now, I have doomed myself and our daughter?” Mary whispered, sounding so devastated that its broke Maximilian’s heart.
“No, Mary, no, you did the right thing. That Boleyn which tore your family apart, was plotting on killing you and your father is leading your country to its doom,” Maximilian countered. “You are the only one who can return England to the Flock of Rome.”
Some might look down at Maximilian for encouraging his wife’s beliefs especially when he did not believe in them but what was he supposed to do: tell Mary that she should have stayed in England, allowed her father to lead England down the path of hell, allow a bastard to take her place, make her think that there was no possible way she could win the crown and even if she did, it would not be worth it for it would be over her father, stepmother and half-siblings’ dead bodies not to mention the thousands of lives she would take in the process.
Mary would fall into a pit of despair that she could not get out of. It was better to let her have false hope then no hope at all.
Let her believe that once his uncle crushed the Schmalkaldic League, she could gain back all she had lost.
Let her believe that when she returned to England, she would be hailed a hero instead of a traitor.
It was better to let her think that to let her know the awful truth: she would never go home again least she was torn to pieces the minute she set foot on English soil.
Uncle Charles thought if they had a son, the son would be accepted but Maximilian couldn’t help but think that even if that were true, England would not be happy with a foreigner as the regent until that child became of age.
In Maximilian’s opinion, Katherine of Aragon’s dream was dead and none of Mary’s descendants would change that.
However, he couldn’t bear to break the news to his wife as he feared the truth would surely kill her.
Portugal
Anna studied her stepdaughter, feeling just a little sorry for her. News had just broken about Philip’s upcoming engagement to the Polish princess.
To Maria’s credit she had accepted her father’s decision with grace and understanding, believing wholeheartedly that if her father believed she was better suited as a nun, he must have a good reason for doing so. The fact that the Pope had agreed was enough for her to agree that it was God’s will that she become a nun.
Still, it must sting knowing that her fiancé’s father, her own uncle, had found another bride to replace her so fast, knowing that the woman chosen was only distantly related to the Hapsburgs and therefore could not hope to match her breeding.
“Have I something on my face, Mother?” Maria questioned, glancing up from her knitting.
Anna blushed in embarrassment for having been so obvious in her staring. She also felt a rush of love for the girl who called her mother despite Anna’s assurance that her stepchildren did not need to call her mother.
“Forgive me, sweet girl, I was just wondering how you felt about…” Anna trailed off, unsure if she should even ask. This might not be something Maria wanted to be brought up.
“Mother, you know you can speak freely about anything,” Maria assured, reaching out to take the older woman’s hand in hers, squeezing it. “We may have only known each other for less than four years but during those years, you have been nothing but a comfort and confidant.”
“It gladdens my heart to hear you speak so highly of me, Maria,” gushed Anna. “I just wasn’t sure if I should even bring this up, but I wanted to make sure you were not upset over the engagement between Infante Felipe and Infanta Catalina.”
A dark scowl appeared on Maria’s face, one that looked out of place on her normally sweet face and Anna worried that she had inadvertently insulted her stepdaughter.
“I would think not, Mother, Felipe has proven that he is a brat who likes stirring things up just to upset me,” Maria remarked, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “First, he tried to convince me that Papa was going to marry me off to heathens, and you should have seen the lies he wrote about England--- legal bigamy and the children of the devil--- then he actually had the nerve to accuse you of bewitching father and killing my brothers. I was lucky to not have married such a horrible boy.”
Some of the ladies gasped at Maria’s words and Anna could not blame them. She knew that she was not trusted, and some spoke of similarities between her and Queen Anne Boleyn but to accuse her of murdering her stepsons and bewitching King John was nothing short of slander.
As outraged as she was at the lies Philip had tried to convince her stepdaughter of, she decided it was best not to tell John about this. Relations between Spain and Portugal were bad enough as it is without rumors making it worse.
After Maria left, she would have a word with her ladies about not betraying the Princess’ confidence by gossiping about her ex-fiancé. Until then she would continue spending time with her stepdaughter.
“As long as you know they are lies, Maria, I say we should put such foolishness away and return to what is truly important,” Anna decided, smiling at her.
“And what would that be, Mother?” Affection danced in Maria’s eyes.
“Spending time together,” Anna answered, thinking if she were ever to have a daughter, she hoped that daughter was as half as wonderful as Infanta Maria Manuel.
Flanders
The clashing of swords and the shouting of men were heard just as the sky turned from pink to blue.
Suggesting a surprise tactic his father had once employed during the Cornish Rebellion, King Henry and his allies had led the troops to a surprise attack on the Holy Roman Emperor’s camp, having surrounded them, shortly before dawn broke.
The battle was bloody and brutal, both sides taking heavy loses. At last, the Spanish mongrels surrendered.
As the red-haired monarch watched Elector John Fredrick and King François discuss the terms of surrender with the generals, he found himself wishing this would be it. They would be done, and he could return home to England.
Henry could not help but snort, thinking that years ago, all he wanted to do was fight in wars. But now that he had missed the birth of his sons, twin sons, he found himself longing to return to England to be greeted by his wife who had done all she had promised seven times over and his seven children.
But Henry felt he couldn’t go home, not until he had captured the King of Spanish mongrels, destroying his armies so England would remain free from the threat of invasion.
The war wasn’t over by a long shot. They had won a hard battle and hopefully, they could replace the Spanish guards and rulers from Flanders with French forces to keep it from falling back into the emperor’s greedy hands.
Then as soon as they had made sure that Flanders was safely under their control they would be moving to Germany.
Once the discussion with the generals was finished, the kings returned to their war tent to discuss what to do with their new hostages.
“We could split them,” Christian suggested. “That we could each get some coin.”
“We are not returning them to the emperor so they may continue fighting for him,” contradicted Henry.
“Then what do you suggest? We keep them prisoners for the rest of their lives even though their families will want their safe return,” François demanded, perhaps remembering those awful days when he was a prisoner in Madrid before being forced to switch with his sons and sign a treaty under duress.
Before Henry could retort, John Fredrick spoke up: “If the Emperor wants them, he will have to pay for them, and I do not worry about them continuing to fight as it is their prerogative if they want to keep losing to us.”
“That is very good point,” Henry remarked with a smirk.
“Don’t be fooled, my lords, we might have won but that was no easy battle. Emperor Charles has his troops, his brother’s army plus the papal army and if my sources are correct the troops of Poland as well. The next battle will be even bloodier than this one,” John Fredrick remarked. “I would suggest we leave some troops in Flanders so they can protect it from the emperor’s forces.”
“Not too many. By now everyone is aware that Flanders will remain in my possession, and I have a feeling that they will be more concerned with Germany,” François stated. “If I may be blunt, they would rather have a French Flanders than Protestant Germany.”
“At least we have good wine,” John Fredrick jested, causing the three men to laugh.
England
The plans for the twin’s christening were running smoothly. Queen Anne was not yet churched but she insisted on being involved, having her father come in and discuss the plans with her as she lay in bed.
“It won’t be that much different than the triplets christening just with one less baby,” Thomas observed.
“True but there also will be one less king to make decisions and as much as I love you, Father, they are my sons,” Anne told him.
“And my grandsons, not that anyone will know considering none of my children bothered to name their son Thomas.” Thomas smirked. “Luckily, I have been assured that I shall have a great-grandson as a namesake.”
“Oh? And who has given you such a big boon?” Anne teased. For all his complaints about his children not naming their children after him, he seemed to dote on all his grandchildren, even Mary’s children.
“The Prince of Wales,” Thomas replied, his chest puffed out in pride. “Perhaps one day there will be a King Thomas of England.”
Anne chuckled before moving on to the matter at hand. “I want the celebrations to be smaller than the ones we had for Harry, Geoff and Bess. Obviously, it should be grand but just not as extravagant.”
“I will make sure of that,” Thomas said, agreeing with his daughter that especially during times of war, it was of the up most importance that they spent their money wisely.
“Furthermore, once I am churched, I intend to give titles to these men,” Anne continued, handing the list to her father to look over.
She would make Cathy Carey’s future husband, Sir Francis Knollys a Baron of Hudson. John Russel and William Parr would also get Baronies as they were now a part of the privy council. She also thought to reward Edward Seymore for his actions three years ago by making him the Viscount of Beauchamp. John Dudley would be made Viscount Lisle. As for the recently extinct Earldom of Essex…
Thomas’s lips became thin. “Cromwell is to have an earldom.”
“Well, he has been serving the crown dutifully,” noted Anne. “Shouldn’t we reward him for all his has down for us?”
“I suppose,” Thomas replied, grudgingly.
The queen could guess her father wanted to say something about Cromwell being baseborn and therefore he should not be allowed to rise any higher. Either he knew that Anne would point out that the same could be said of the Boleyns or perhaps he was unwilling to argue with her only a few days after she had given birth to twins.
“Do you have any issues with any other man on this list?” Anne inquired.
Thomas studied the list for a few more minutes. “I think you have chosen well. There would be much resentment if you only chose friends and relatives of ours to ennoble,” he observed.
He then smiled, thinking with four sons, it wasn’t very much anyone could do about it. Anne had secured her position and now the Boleyns were unstoppable.
Not even the Lady Mary and her insipid cousin could defeat them.