Tudor Queen, Tudor Crown
Page 30
Mortal cares, they were beyond her purview now.
As for her loving husband, he had never loved her. He never had a care for her besides what gains he had sought to reap from sharing her bed. He had taken her hand and pledged her his eternal troth while he had winked and cast his eyes elsewhere, over her sister, over her army and over England’s treasury.
There is no love in the House of Kings.
Her chest rose, her breath rattling in her chest as she drew in air against the harsh constriction in her lungs.
I have been a Princess, a bastard and a queen, she gasped. I have been a daughter, a wife and a king.
The days of her reign flashed before her eyes, her many failures, her few triumphs. All the sorrow that had been hers, all the terror, all the fear and all the troubles that refused to leave her swirled and swarmed inside her mind, threatening to overwhelm her. They held her down like manacles around her limbs…
She gritted her teeth.
God. Her heart clung to Him and she found comfort and solace in His guidance. He was the only being to whom she had ever entrusted her soul, and in these, her last moments on earth, she awaited his mercy.
All my life, I have fought for God and all that was right. I have fought to do nothing but God’s will and bring my people His love and favor. Mary prayed, uttering her words in tortured silence.
Her sight was faltering and wavering. The beloved faces of her Susan and Jane drifted, sometimes clear, sometimes close and sometimes far. Their voices sound as if they were speaking to her from a great distance. She fought hard to hear them. She blinked, over and over, and for a moment, her vision cleared.
She saw Jane, her eyes red, her face streaked with tears. Beside her, Susan’s brow was firm and her lip stiff as she held her mistress’ limp hand in her own. Beyond them, came the priest.
Trembling, Mary clasped her hands together, Susan helping her. The priest was here to administer onto her the comfort of God. Extreme Unction. He was here to anoint the sick, the dangerously ill, the dying.
My lady, the priest is come, Susan said softly, her hand upon Mary’s brow, the priest is come to give strength and lend health unto your majesty.
The Priest strode forth. He held the holy oil in his hands, ready to perform his saintly task.
I resign myself to the Will of God, Mary mumbled through cracked lips, I am contrite and I commit myself and confess all of my mortal sins unto God. It is my greatest desire to receive God’s Sacrament.
She closed her eyes as the priest touched her upon her forehead.
She committed her being to God.
Her ears. Every word and every utterance she had ever heard, foul or good, she committed them to God. Her nose and her lips, her hands and her feet, she committed them all unto God, those mortal instruments through which she had sinned.
Mary Tudor was ready to leave all her woes behind, she was ready to confess her sins and ask for God’s grace.
The oil followed the guidance of the Priest’s hands, leaving her warm and cold by turns. At my birth, at my coronation and now upon my death, thrice have the Holy Oils of God touched me, bestowing onto me the blessings of my Divine Maker…
She had all her earthly cares in order. Her will and final testament had been read. She had ordered Mass to be said by her bed and she had taken care to dictate unto her ministers the remainder of her mortal wishes; her three greatest, final cares:
Elizabeth must inherit.
The one True Faith must be the only faith in England.
We must be buried next to our mother.
The last of the three was her greatest desire.
She sighed as her body quaked. Relief, relief was in sight. Soon death would claim her and she would be beyond the reach of mortal pains. Resolute, she turned her face toward God. He was her Savior and soon she would face His Judgment.
My reign, it is almost done.
The folly of kings and the fate of queens; they have all been played out on this great stage, and as the sun sets over my reign, so shall it dawn over Elizabeth’s.
Many things have been said of me. Many things shall be said of me and many words will be writ, shivered Mary. But no one has ever looked into the depths of this heart. None shall ever discover my secrets. I am Mary Tudor. Mary I. Mary of England. I am what I am, and I shall not change now or in the ever after. No matter what is to be said or writ of me ever after, I have been true to my heart.
She turned her eyes upon her loyal servants, a slight smile tilting the corner of her lips. My Susan and my Jane shall be with me till the end. They shall stay with me and they shall honor me and accompany me in this, my final hours. I shall not be friendless in my moment of need.
Her chest rose and fell, the cadence slow, the task arduous. The priest’s task was done.
And soon I will be done too. Soon, I shall have eternal peace and sleep the everlasting sleep. The thought made her heart swell. She had not slept well for many nights, many weeks, nay, many years now. Sleeplessness, it plagued her. It was an enemy that she had never able to conquer. Aye, over the years she had been able to rest, but never for long. She had despaired over the affliction and deemed it God’s will that she should use as many hours within the day to advance His faith as possible.
And Lord knows, she had fought and fought hard for God’s victory here in this land.
But now I must lay me down to sleep. God has summoned me. My fight is at an end.
Dawn would soon be upon them. As the candles burned low, Mary allowed her eyes to linger on their soft glow.
Illumination.
The warmth from the candles was meager but she could feel it, sense it. She turned toward the light and felt the promise of God’s embrace. Peace, it lingered just beyond the next bend.
The pain, it flowed and ebbed.
Around her, her ladies fought hard to staunch their tears.
Mary wanted to offer them comfort. She tried to speak but her tongue was thick and her mouth was dry. She wanted to tell them that she could feel God’s grace. She wanted to tell them of the light, beckoning to her. For just around the bend, the sun shone bright with warmth.
She strove with all her might toward it.
And in the midst of it all, the pain receded, her soul rejoiced and she reached for God’s everlasting grace. From a great distance, the sound of Mass being said permeated her ears.
All around her, the air glowed.
The light was bright, so bright it was blinding. Then, to her surprise, from amongst the turmoil ravaging her mortal flesh Mary Tudor heard chuckles flowing upon the air beside the heavy crunch of her father’s heel and the soft tread of her mother’s footfalls…
Joy surged through her soul.
All the cares upon her soul lifted, one by one, freeing her from her earthly shackles and Mary could feel herself ascending, carried on the winds.
So this is death.
Turning her face toward it, she embraced the warmth and disappeared into the light.
.
END NOTES
Mary I died on the morning of November 17th 1558.
Mary’s Cardinal, Reginald de la Pole died later on the same day.
When he learned of Mary’s demise, Philip of Spain remarked that he felt ‘reasonable regret for her death.’
Later, he would renew his offer for Elizabeth’s hand and she would refuse him. It was an affront that he never forgave her for and thirty years later he would send his grand Armada against Elizabeth in an attempt to unseat her from the throne of England.
Not long after Mary’s death a treaty was signed between Spain, France and England.
Much later, Elizabeth would renew her claim to Calais. For a payment of 120,000 crowns however, Elizabeth was eventually persuaded to retract her claim.
During Mary’s reign, up to three hundred Protestants perished in the flames.
She would be forever remembered for it.
History pronounces Mary’s reign as cruel and inhumane and in many
ways it was riddled with faults and horrors. It does appear as if she had done nothing right. But Elizabeth did reap the rewards for the reforms her sister instigated during her tenure as queen. From exploration of the high seas, naval armament and expansion to fiscal reform, many seeds of change were planted by Mary Tudor during her reign then later brought to fruition during the times of Elizabeth.
Elizabeth I ruled for forty-five years.
During that time, she sent a total of four heretics to the flames. Other heretics that she sent to their deaths were sentenced as traitors to the Crown.
Elizabeth I was the longest reigning Tudor.
She was also the last of the Tudors. She never married and when she died, the throne passed to her nephew, a Stuart, James VI of Scotland.
As for Mary’s ladies-in-waiting, Susan Clarencieux and Jane Dormer were forced to flee England upon the queen’s death. They lived the remainder of their lives in Catholic Spain.
Jane later married Don Feria and used her influence to aid the Catholic cause in England.
It was rumored that Susan remained with Jane as part of her household until her death in 1564.
Finally, despite her wish to be buried next to her mother, Katherine of Aragon, Mary was denied her desire and interred instead at Westminster Abbey on December 14th 1558.
Eventually, she shall share a tomb with her sister, Elizabeth I.
The inscription that graces Elizabeth as well as Mary Tudor’s graves today was erected by James I, and it reads: Partners both in grave and throne, here rest we two sisters, Elizabeth and Mary, in the hope of One Resurrection.
An effigy of Elizabeth marks their tomb.
Dear reader,
The Tudors were a fascinating family and they had enthralled me for a very long time.
I had tried to create a story that was told differently and I hope I was able to lend something different to these well-known tales.
Now for a few confessions:
For the purpose of congruence and flow, I took the liberty of condensing the events of 1531, 1532 and 1533.
As for other interpretations of the Tudor story, all primary sources from the period points to Edward VI as the one who wanted to change the succession. He was the one that wanted to prevent his Protestant crown from falling into Mary’s Catholic hands. Still, there was no denying that Northumberland had the most to gain from this arrangement. I took some liberties with my version of this story in an attempt to give the relationship between the Tudor siblings a more sentimental face.
As for little Katherine Howard and her last words, it was often professed that she went to the block proclaiming she would rather die the wife of Thomas Culpepper, however, that version of events was not recorded in any of the primary sources at the time.
Lastly, Mary Tudor had always been depicted as being desperately in love with her Spanish husband. During my research of this queen, I decided to take a different path in depicting her marriage. Owing to the plethora of fiction on the Tudors, I had hoped to create an alternate vision of their story and I hope I had, to a small measure, succeeded.
Finally, I hope you enjoyed my tale of Tudor crown and Tudor queens.
Thank you for reading!
J.P
About the Author
Jennifer is a writer who loves to explore the alternate sides of history and myth. Spending and dedicating entirely too much time to this pursuit, Jennifer’s household boasts one perpetually absent cat, a too-plump Labrador and one very understanding partner.
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