“Come Child…” (The Death of Katherine Parr Seymour)

 Assorted Writings: Tudor Era With Guest Writers  No Responses »
Nov 232012
 

Guest Writer: Mercy Alicia (Jane Grey)

Guest Writer: Jessica Scarlett (Thomas Seymour)

Guest Writer: Lisa Schuck (Princess Elizabeth)

Tomb of Katherine Parr

Katherine Parr Seymour: I am so uncomfortable. It is hard to breathe, and my back aches so. My heart is what hurts most, though. I miss Princess Elizabeth, and Lady Jane is so despondent, confused as to what drove the princess away. I decide I have no choice but to tell her the truth, and I pray I can find the right words. As I rest in confinement, I send my most trusted servant to go find her.

Lady Jane Grey: *I have been called to lady Katherine’s chamber, she is almost in full term and I am sure she must feel uncomfort; but at the same time she is probably happy, since she will have a child from the man she loves… even when I think he does not deserve her love. I open the door of her chamber; and curtsey with elegance* Madame, you sent for me?

Katherine Parr Seymour: I try to sit myself up on the pillows, and as I struggle, on my my ladies comes to assist me. I pat her hand and thank her. ”Oh dear Jane, come sit down beside me on the bed. I wish to speak with you.” As Lady Jane complies with my request, I offer… ”I wish to explain why Princess Elizabeth needed to leave us.”

Lady Jane Grey: *I look down, I really miss Princess Elizabeth… she is a kind young lady and in many ways we have things in common* Sure Madame *I look at her with sadness*

Katherine Parr Seymour: I hold Lady Jane’s hand, and speak softly. ”Lady Jane, I am heart broken by this. I sent Princess Elizabeth away to protect her… and to safeguard her reputation. With God’s grace, she some day will reign as Queen of this realm.” I begin to tear up, and my heart aches. ”Thomas… yes, my husband Thomas, is attracted to her and made inappropriate advances towards her.” I begin crying, and add… ”I must know. Has he made advances towards you, child?”

Lady Jane Grey: *I blush and I feel a little ashamed* No Madame, never… *Sometimes I found him looking at me in a strange and unapropiate way but, I will not tell her that, there is no reason for her to suffer more*

Katherine Parr Seymour: ”Lady Jane, please help me up. Let’s kneel in prayer… ask God to guide us, ask God to heal us, ask God to heal my beloved Princess, who I love as my own daughter.”

Lady Jane Grey: Of course Madame *With extreme care I help Lady Katherine to get up, and I wait until she finds enough comfort and knees so we can start with our prayers*

Katherine Parr Seymour: As Lady Jane assists me to my knees, I feel water flowing from me and I double over in pain…. ”Jane, pray for me and get Thomas and the midwife. It’s my time… it’s my time.”

Princess Elizabeth:  I am sitting in my apartments, reading when Lady Kat brings me a message from Chelsea telling me that my step-mother Dowager Queen Katherine Parr Seymour is in labor and that Lord Thomas Seymour will send a messenger when Lady Katherine brings forth her child. I fold the message and bow my head praying for Lady Katherine’s safe delivery of her child and for her to survive her travail.

God… water… water. I am so hot… my head, spinning… spinning. “Mary? Mary? Bring her to me, please.”…. I hold her, kiss her, love her… “Where’s Jane? Where’s Jane? Jane, dear… pray for me. I fear I will die.” Sleep… sleep… I am burning, burning. Is this hell? No.. no… no… I see him not. Satan, he’s not with me. I turn around to see who is.

OH MY NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! I scream, but nothing comes out. I look all around me. There they are, the jury… dear Surrey… pious More….  trusted Essex… beautiful Queen Anne… merry Kitty… traitor Buckingham…. musical Smeaton… loyal Norris…. Rochford holding hands with his wife… the heretic Fisher… and my most beloved Anne Askew…. circled all around me, their heads rolling on the ground by their feet. “Oh justice is what you are threatened with”, says Essex. I smell the stench of rotten flesh, and in the distance there he stands, holding the axe, Henry. Satan. He IS here. I am burning, burning, burning… and they fade away. All dead. All gone. None forgotten.

The birds chirp and I smell baked apples. Home, loved and warm… the hearth crackling as the embers burn. My mother greets me at the entrance. “Come to mummy Katherine. Come, child.” Her beauty rare, I walk slowly towards her.

Lady Jane Grey: *My lady Katherine delivered a healthy and beautiful baby girl after long and difficult hours of labor, she named her Mary; but the time for her joy was short; since my lady have been ill after the birth of her daughter. I have been beside her all the time, giving her comfort and doing my best to ease her discomfort; I am so worried, I do not see signs of recovery at all, to me she is getting worse. May God Help her and Bless her back with her health*

Katherine Parr Seymour: I’m so hot… so hot… but God has blessed me… there she is, my beloved mother, holding out her arms outstretched. ”Come to mummy Katherine. Come child.” I walk towards her, and speak out… ”Mother?”

Thomas Seymour: ~I have been told that my wife has delivered a beautiful baby girl. I am a little disappointed that it is not a son, but I know I shall love her just the same. I have been summoned and permitted to see my wife and child. There is a strangeness among the maids. I cannot seem to understand it. I go to the chamber and I am allowed in. I nod to the Lady Jane and hurry to my wife’s side. I hear her mumble words that sounds like Mother. I am most certain that I am hearing things. ”Sweet Katherine,” I say softy as I come to her side.

Lady Jane Seymour: *I am trying to hold my tears, but something tells me that this situation will not end well, My Lady Katherine looks so weak, and her fever is burning her; but for the first time, I see a real concern on her husband’s face; I am glad he is taking his place beside her, she needs him now, more than ever*

Katherine Parr Seymour: I feel my mother take my hand and draw me into her warm embrace, along with a cool breeze. ”Katherine, I have missed you child. Come with me. Henry waits.” ….. ”Henry?…. Henry?” Poof, in an instant, all goes black.

Lady Jane Grey: *I fall on my knees; the pain in my heart is intense, I have lost the only person close to the mother I ever wanted to have; My dear Lady Katherine, my friend, my… mother, she has left me, now I will be lost*

Thomas Seymour: ~I squeeze Katherine’s hand tightly and kiss it. I see that she is burning up with some ailment from childbirth. My heart sinks. Shall I lose my dear wife. I feel a tear coming from my eyes and look at Jane. She is looking as if she will weep at any moment. ”Katherine,” I say again with eyes pleading, ”I love you…” I whisper. I see that her face as no recognition. She is burning up. The word Henry slips out. I gasp and see her close her eyes and lose colour. ”Oh my dear Katherine,” I weep as I bring her hand to my mouth and kiss it again. She is lost forever.

Princess Elizabeth: A few days later a rider approaches Hatfield his garments and horse draping are black. A hand grips my heart as the rider kneels at my feet and silently hands me a message.
Dearest Princess Elizabeth,
It is with heavy heart that I must inform you of the passing of my beloved wife Lady Katherine. she passed after giving birth to our daughter Mary, from childbed fever. My heart doth break at the loss of my beloved. I shall write again anon when the mourning period is over.
Your loyal servant,
Lord Thomas Seymour

Invisible

 Assorted Writings: Elizabeth, Gloriana  No Responses »
Nov 232012
 

My beloved brother lies near death. My heart breaks for him, for me, for the people of this blessed realm. Broken, my anxieties grow as the ascension of my sister nears. Dearest Cecil, so humble, so loyal, so brilliant, at great risk to himself has counseled me. I take this dear man’s words to heart, “While she reigns take the mass. Be careful to whom you associate. As much as you can, become invisible.”  Invisible? Is not my love of God enough? My loyalty to the nature rights of the ascension enough? Of course not. Mary, our future Queen in her own right nears her barren years, and with no marriage and no heir, the crown falls to me — her worst nightmare. Cecil says foolish men will rebel in my name, bend a knee for my hand, raise my name as the alternative queen to the Catholic heir. Their folly is a risk to mine own life, and all those close to me. My stomach turns, and I should take to my bed, but sleep does not come easy, a quiet and peaceful mind does not come easy.

I sit at my desk, and begin my translations, Latin to French, French to Italian, Italian to Greek, Greek to English — an exercise that often works to ease my mind. Roger Ascham, little does he know I owe him my sanity. I open the reformed Common Book of Prayer gifted to me by my Godfather, Thomas Cranmer, and select a New Testament reading of daily prayer and begin to review the Benedictus before I begin my translations of it…

“Blessed be the Lord God of Israel : for he hath visited, and redeemed his people;

And hath raised up a mighty salvation for us : in the house of his servant David;
As he spoke by the mouth of his holy Prophets : which have been since the world began;
That we should be saved from our enemies : and from the hands of all that hate us;
To perform the mercy promised to our forefathers : and to remember his holy Covenant;
To perform the oath which he sware to our forefather Abraham : that he would give us;
That we being delivered out of the hands of our enemies : might serve him without fear;
In holiness and righteousness before him : all the days of our life.
And thou, Child, shalt be called the Prophet of the Highest : for thou shalt go before the face of the Lord to prepare his ways;
To give knowledge of salvation unto his people : for the remission of their sins,
Through the tender mercy of our God : whereby the day-spring from on high hath visited us.

As I read the words, I am driven to tears. My poor Edward, once a child in my arms, the boy king shall soon be in his gracious and kind mother’s arms soon, in our valiant and regal Father’s arms soon, in the Lord’s caring and forgiving arms soon. God take him easily. Let the King, my brother, suffer not. Advised poorly, he wiped all remaining signs of Mary’s faith from the realm and disgraced her. Will Mary tear God’s word written by Cranmer’s hand and all I do worship asunder, as well? Yes, the woman takes mass under the King’s nose, and invites all who will join her. Why must a monarch look into men’s souls, I ponder. Fanatics both, my heart is heavy, my soul burdened. My anxiety overwhelming, I begin my translations in earnest… again, again, and again. Not satisfied with the scrolling, I begin anew as Master Ascham expects nothing short of perfection, as do I. God make it so.

Sunday at Hatfield

 Assorted Writings: Elizabeth, Gloriana  No Responses »
Nov 232012
 

Early July, a light breeze, sunny and warm, the birds sing and the scent of roses fill the air. Worship services done, prayers said, and my studies complete, despite my heavy heart for my ailing King, my ailing brother, I take my ladies out into the summer air, and we dance. Respite is sometimes good for the soul, says Ascham. He is so wise, as my heart lifts, if only for a moment. As I raise my arms and twirl, Blanche, Kat and my maids join me in unison… for this exquisite of moments we are one, clap clap.  Invigorated, we all dance merrily until tired, and then rest under a large maple tree as my servants bring us roast chicken, cheese, fresh bread and spiced cider. God gave us a perfect afternoon, and we take full advantage. As my beloved Kat begins reading psalms aloud from the New Testament, I look out into the distance… A messenger is approaching, galloping hard.

Messenger: Told the message is of urgency, I ride on hard until I approach the beautiful princess and her ladies. I dismount, approach the princess, and bend a knee. She smiles and motions a hand that I may rise. “Good Sabbath Day, Princess. I have here an urgent message for the Lady Blanche Parry.”

Elizabeth, Gloriana: I hold out my hand, and he places the waxed, folded parchment in it. “Thank you, good man. I will insure she gets it. You may take you leave.” As the messenger begins to depart, I look down into my hand. The coded seal tells me all I need to know, and my hand begins to tremble slightly. I look over at Blanche. “It’s from your cousin, my spirit, Blanche. I fear what he is to tell us.” Knowing the message is for me, she nods that I open in. I detach the seal, and look down. “Blanche, I will need your help. The message is written in Welsh.”

Blanche Parry: I lean over and take the letter from the Princess’ hand, and begin reading silently to myself.

Anwylaf Dywysoges,
Mae’n boen i mi eich hysbysu bod y Brenin wedi marw. Ar Cyfrin gyngor a ddysgais heddiw fod ei ewyllys wedi enwi Jane Dudley fel y Frenhines, y etifedd cyfreithlon Mary a ydych disinherited. Dudley yn anelu at eich arestio ddau. Mary wedi encilio i East Anglia, a rhaid i chi adael Hatfield wth holl gennyt, ac ewch i’r lle y byddech yn disgwyl lleiaf. Os bydd Dudley yn drech a Jane yn parhau i fod y Frenhines, bydd yn eich arwain i alltudiaeth.
~ ~ ~ Eich Gwas Humble

Frozen in fear as I realize what has come to pass, I look all around to insure no one is nearby. In a trembling voice, I offer, “Princess, I think it best you dismiss the maids now.”

Elizabeth, Gloriana: I see dear Blanch is frightened, and I do as she suggests… “Ladies, you may take your leave. Head back now, and Kat, Blanche and I will meet you for dinner.” Once the maids have left our presence, I command in an anxious tone, “Blanche do read to Kat and me, now.”

Blanche Parry: My hands trembling, and my voice in a quiver, I read the message. While doing do, tears come. God help us.

Dearest Princess,
It pains me to inform you that the King has died. At privy council I learned this day that his will has named Jane Dudley as Queen, both the rightful heir Mary and you disinherited. Dudley aims to arrest you both. Mary has retreated to East Anglia, and you must leave Hatfield with all haste, and head to the the place you would be least expected. Should Dudley prevail and Jane remains Queen, she will guide you to exile.
~~~ Your Humble Servant

Elizabeth, Gloriana: “Jane Dudley, queen? This can not be. T’is Mary’s birthright, and after hers, mine. Kat, Blanche, we must leave now.” I look to them both, fear frozen in their eyes. “We will bring your husbands, and no one else. No carriage, no parcels, we will ride. There is no time to tarry.” We rush back to the estate, and Kat calls out for her husband, John. He looks over to me, and I state calmly, “T’is time to leave as we planned with my dearest spirit should there be need.” He nods knowingly.

Kat Ashley: As Blanche rushes around with her husband collecting just essentials, I look first to my husband and then the princess. “Where are we going?”

John Ashley: I look over to Princess Elizabeth, and she quietly says, “Tell her. It pains me to.” I swallow hard. “Kat, we are making haste to the protection of the princess’ beloved Dr. John Dee, and will hide for now in the home of the daughter of Queen Anne’s butcher.” Kat raises her hand, and I quickly add, “Before you say a word. There is no choice. We go, or we risk peril for us all.”

As I hear dearest John speak, my blood goes cold. “… the daughter of Queen Anne’s butcher.” Mother in heaven, please forgive me. Father in heaven, please forgive me. God in heaven, please forgive me. I do this for you Mother. I do it for Mary, the rightful Queen, Mother. I do it me, Mother… and for England, this blessed realm.

Exile, Escape From a Queen…. (POV: Iris Sedena-Cromwell)

 Assorted Writings: Elizabeth, Gloriana  No Responses »
Nov 232012
 

They have been here for two days, here at my home once my beloved Thea Nia and Theo’s. It seems like an eternity. Why did I allow John Dee, Lily and Anthea to talk me into this? Was not there another answer, another way to keep Henry’s cub safe? My God, I can’t even maintain eye contact, as she constantly glares at me, constantly watches my every move, yet says nothing, delegating the one called Blanche to speak for her. I am told they refer to me as “the butcher of Queen Anne’s daughter”; well so I am, and unlike Lily and Anthea, I look the part. I think I will wear black only for the rest of the time she spends here, just to push her over the edge. I know she is a Princess, and my omens say soon Queen, but I am not invisible — and I am not my father, not even close. I wonder what the Princess would think if I told her she was sleeping in my parents’ bed?

Today I have decided to work out in my herb garden, once tended by Thea and my mother, and now me.Taught in the old ways, I work the land daily. Selfishly, I find it relaxing and an escape from the stresses life brings me. As I pick some of the herbs so ready, I know I could make an elixir that would help the Princess with her stomach ails and headaches, but I don’t dare even offer. They will think I am trying to poison the woman. As I continue to tend along, pulling weeds, I hear her voice… Lady Blanche. How can I miss it? She is the only one who will speak to me. Even the one they call Kat will not.

Blanche Parry:  “Lady Iris… Lady Iris. I am so sorry to interrupt you.” She looks up at me, and I pause. My God, she is like looking at a ghost… the ghost of Satan’s Emissary himself. “Don’t you have servants to do this menial work?”

Iris Sedena-Cromwell: Startled I look up, while still pulling weeds. Though common in their minds, thanks to my father, I am certainly not poor. “I could, Lady Blanche, but I choose not to. How can I help you then?”

Blanche Parry: Princess Elizabeth is becoming increasing anxious. We had received no news of Princess Mary, and it has been two days. I desire to find a diversion from her thoughts. “I fear the Princess is becoming… well, bored. In the rush, we were unable to bring any of her beloved books. She also loves to write. By chance do you have any books, parchment, quills and ink? If so, it would ever be a kindness.”

Iris Sedena-Cromwell: I set up and begin brushing the earth from my gown, not so pretty as my company’s, but suitable none the less. This woman wants to know if I have books and writing implements suitable for royalty? Well… “Actually yes, Lady Blanche. I do have a few things the Princess may find of interest. Do come with me.” I lead Lady Blanche back into the house, through the kitchen and down the hallway to the study, father’s study, his beloved place of refuge. I open the door and we walk in, the first problem of the day obvious — the Holbein. Memories quickly jog my mind, my mother’s teasing, my brother’s laughter, my fear at the first sight of it. I thought my father looked angry at me, and Gregory needed to calm me down. I smile at the thought. I look over at Lady Blanche, and her hand is covering her mouth. “Go get your husband, Lady Blanche. We will take that down, and place it behind a book shelf.”

Blanche Parry: I rush to get my husband, and we take the Holbein down and slip it behind some bookshelves as the Lady Iris suggested. He is in awe as he looks around the room. I am stunned by this library. It’s extensive. “Lady Iris, can you show me what all these books are and how they are organized so I may show the Princess?”

Iris Sedena-Cromwell: “Oh yes, of course.” I begin walking around the room with Lady Blanche. “Over here, are books in Old Greek that belonged to my grandparents.” We walk further… “And over here are books in new Greek, which the Princess will enjoy I am sure. Some are my mother’s, others were my brother Gregory’s… and we walk still further… “Over here are some books in Italian, some in French, some in Latin, and others in English. They were… well… the Princess is welcome to read them. Over there at that desk there is plenty of parchment, quills and ink.” Oh my, there are some of my father’s documents there. “I only ask that she leave the written work behind the desk as it lays. Well perhaps I should actually move it.” I take the written documents, and will bring them to my room. God knows what’s in them. I never looked.

Blanche Parry: As Lady Iris brings me around the study, I see immediately this collection of books rivals the Princess’. She will be in her glory. Then the obvious finally hits me. “Lady Iris, it’s best I know. Did your father actually live here?”

Iris Sedena-Cromwell: I nod and say simply, “As much as he could be freed from court, My Lady.”

Blanche Parry: “It’s best the Princess not know if it can be avoided.”

Iris Sedena-Cromwell: I simply nod. “Well, I will attend to my chores now, and start dinner. Feel free to bring the Princess in any time.” I leave with the documents and stash them in my room.

~~~~~~ One Day Later: Princess Elizabeth is in the study. ~~~~~

After two days of anxious waiting for news of my sister the Rightful Queen, my beloved Blanche has shown me to Lady Iris’ study. I am in heaven, a beautiful collection, with many works I have never read. The books in Greek are absolutely delightful, mythology always a favorite, and books in  Italian, a rare treat indeed.  I pass the hours reading myths, novels, poetry, a welcome escape, if only for brief moments. Back to my translation transcriptions, I am holding my anxiety at bay. As I look around this delightful collection of books, I think of our hostess. My God, she looks of the father as people have described him… tall, black hair, with curls, all signs of a commoner. If Jane reigns, she and John Dee will lead us to Dover, and from there, I head to exile; if Mary reigns, it’s Iris who will go, on to Europe to make or mar, such the irony.

I look on up to a top shelf, and spy a book I have heard of aplenty, but never read through. Stretching on my toes, I pull it down. Obviously not opened for many years, I dust it off. I point my finger across the beautifully embossed cover, and trace the title words… “The Exposition of the First Epistle of St. John”.  In my hands, the written work of William Tyndale, once thought heresy to own in this realm, and if my sister reigns, as is her given right, will be heresy once again.  I open the cover, and stop cold, tears welling, for there is written in her loving hand… ”Happiest of New Year’s to you, my dearest friend. Anne, the Quene.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sisters, Queens, Stars and Omens

 Assorted Writings: Elizabeth, Gloriana  No Responses »
Nov 232012
 

Three days ago, the St. Edward’s crown was traitorously placed on the head of Jane Dudley, and I remain here at the home of a pagan begot of my mother’s butcher, desperate for news of my sister, Queen Mary. As the crown was laid, my sister sent the privy council word of her rightful proclamation as Queen of England. Although Dudley and most of the privy council have tied their fate with my cousin, the people are rallying around my sister. As news trickles to me through messages from Dr. Dee and my Spirit, Cecil, I begin to become hopeful that against all odds my sister will prevail. T’is God’s will. T’is my father’s will. Only God knows why, so I do not question. His will be done.  As I read Greek mythology in the study while Blanche, Kat and their husbands take some respite outdoors, I hear voices from the dining room. My  heart lifts. My dearest of friends John Dee is here, along with a women by the sounds of it. Should I get up and enter? I decide to hold back until I am sure who this women is. I close my book, and crack to door open and listen.

Iris Sedena-Cromwell: My poor Bess. I am pleased that she has come out for a visit on such a lovely summer day, but she looks drawn, pale and disheartened, the repeated assault of losses wearing her down, draining all her energy. My poor Gregory would be upset so to see her this way. The journey from Laude is long, but I know why she so ventures. “Oh Bess… do come in. Awwwwww, well look at baby Thomas. He has grown so.” I look beyond and John Dee approaches behind her. “Well, look here. My tormentor has arrived. I supposed I should let you in, as well.” I say teasingly, Bess, what this man has done to me… I shall never forgive.”

Elizabeth Seymour Cromwell: As sad as this last year has been, I can’t help but smile at Iris’ comments. Gregory always said, she is too free with her words. T’is true. As I hold baby Thomas with one arm, and hug Iris with the other and kiss her forehead. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you Iris.  You need to come Laude and visit before heading to Europe. Everyone misses you. Anthea, Lilith and I could use the help. There are children running every where.”

Iris Sedena-Cromwell: Guilt ridden, I look at the woman who accepted us as family on a crown when the truth finally came to be known. How much more can Bess endure? In the last year, she has lost her brother, then her husband, then her last remaining blood family tie, the King. Raising five children of her own and three of her brother, Somerset’s, no time for mourning weighs heavy. I say knowing I will not go back there, “I will try and come out after my company leaves, Bess.” I look over at John, “Come, come, do sit down then. There’s much afoot. I’ll get us some soup and bread.”

John Dee: I sit gladly at the table after such a long journey. Bess insisted in coming, hoping her proximity to court will increase her chances of attending funeral services for the late boy king. The only Seymour blood relative close still living, she feels duty bound to her sister and to His Majesty. “So Iris, where is your company now?”

Iris Sedena-Cromwell: I begin serving the soup and bread, and bring out some goblets and a pitcher and ale. I say with a hint of hurt, and a hint of sarcasm,”The company to whom you most desire is my father’s study, sitting at my father’s desk, writing with my father’s quill on my father’s parchments, and reading my father’s books. The rest are out for a walk through the gardens.” I say to John pointedly, “If my omens did not foretell she will be a glorious queen, John, I would do this not. They call me the butcher’s daughter. I have kept my mouth shut, but just barely.”

Elizabeth Seymour-Cromwell: I look over at John, and his resolve does not falter. This must be done. As much as I loved my nephew, I fear he was unduly influenced by Northumberland and the Protestant Privy Council. The crown is Queen Mary’s, and if not heirs from her, then Princess Elizabeth. I learned over time from Gregory, Nicoleen and the girls that a Sedena begotten omen never lies. The daughter of Anne Boleyn will reign. I offer, “Iris, our prayers will be answered, and you will have your life back soon, dear. I think it most urgent that before this day is done, we lay the plans for your exile. We will need to get you, Lilith and Anthea out of England. I fear the queen will burn you.”

Elizabeth, Gloriana: I listen intently from the door. Lady Iris is a bitter one. She expects me to be gracious? I will settle for civil, and leave things lie there. Lady Elizabeth, I have not seen her in ages. A Lady-in-Waiting for my mother and  Queens Jane, Anne of Cleves, and Katherine Parr, I know her well enough. I forgot she was married to the butcher’s son, as you rarely saw him at court. A Baron, yes… but from afar. Smart man, as the sweat took him, not the ax. I decide to listen a little longer before entering. Yes, these women better swiftly head to exile. Mary will ruin them; I am certain of it.

John Dee: Iris finally sits down with us, and I look over at her and state, “Iris, you have precious cargo. All signs lead that Mary is building her forces from Farmlingham, and forces under Robert Dudley are dwindling the closer he comes to her. I have carefully looked at the stars and charts, and all goes her way. I give it days and Northumlerland’s cards will fall all around him, and Mary will reign. I have come to consult with the Princess to ready her to show support to her sister, perhaps ride in to London as one. The princess must be careful, as who is queen matters not. The days ahead will be fraught with danger for this Lion’s cub.”

Iris Sedena-Cromwell: I listen to John speak and see the truth in it, nodding. I look over at Bess. “Can I hold baby Thomas?” Bess nods, and passes him over to me. The babe lies sleeping, and I look down upon him. So bittersweet a child is he. Born after my Gregory’s death, the man both brother and father to me, will never be a father to him. Saddened as I think of this, I fight back tears. Oh how I miss Gregory. “Bess, he is a bonny looking lad. He looks of you, not Gregory, I’d say. You were brave to name him after my father. Thank you. The omens say  he will serve Her Majesty well, but from afar.”

Elizabeth Seymour Cromwell: I look over at my Thomas and Iris. Will the Lord bless this beautiful woman with a babe someday, I wonder? “Yes, he is a happy boy, and very…” As I speak, I look over and see Princess Elizabeth enter. We all stand up dutifully. Iris and I curtsey, while John bows.  I offer… “Princess, it has been too long since I have seen you.”

Elizabeth, Gloriana: As I listen to John Dee speak, my heart lifts. Queen Mary, yes I did not give her the credit due. She is rallying the people, who see her as rightful queen. Thank you, God. Although I question the omens of the butcher’s daughter, I believe John’s gifts to be real. I must speak to him alone. I must. As they continue talking, I head back to the bed chamber I’ve been sleeping in and get a shawl. I then scurry into the dining room. I look over, and lift my hand that they all rise, and respond… “Yes, it has been, Lady Elizabeth.” I say sincerely to this kindly woman, always like her sister the Queen a support to me, “Please accept my condolences at this difficult time. It pains me that the King lays still with no service or burial. I trust that Queen Mary will attend to it, and that we both will be there.” I then look over at John Dee. “We must speak alone John.” He nods, and without another word, he graciously holds me by the arm and we leave the house. John guides me through a path within the woods that he obviously has traveled before, and we walk along briskly until we arrive upon a secluded hidden treasure, a lush and beautiful lily pond in full bloom. “John, this place is absolutely delightful. How did you find it?” He looks at me, and smiles, “Never you mind, let’s talk about the days ahead. You must be prepared to meet Queen Mary just outside of London as she makes her triumphant entry into London. The stars foretell we are only short days ahead. You must show every support of her and live humbly and quietly as you wait her out.” My astrologist never lies, and he never falters. As he continues to speak, I hush him for just a minute, stand in the soft grass looking out to the lily pond and raise my arms, “God I thank you most abundantly. Give me strength to endure the dangerous days ahead.” I then turn around, and sit upon a nearby rock. I take off my slippers, and dip my feet in the water. Such a peaceful and spiritual place this spot is. I feel relaxed and energized, all in one. I turn to John and say, “I will be careful, John, but I must also be true to myself. Have courage. We all must.” I then ask, the curiosity lingering in my mind now for days. “I know you are with one of the butcher’s daughters. Is she the one?” He slowly waves his head, no. The mystery continues. I think for a moment and add, “For you and for the risks that young woman took, if the stars and her omens are correct and someday I reign, they may return safe to England on the condition you keep them far away from me and mine.” Mother, please forgive me.

Exile

 Assorted Writings: Elizabeth, Gloriana  No Responses »
Nov 232012
 

A beautiful day, I rise to a gentle breeze through the window and the sound of birds chirping in the distance. Lady Blanche still sleeps near the foot of my bed, so I quietly go about my morning rituals without her. She always rises before me, dressed and ready to help me start my day, so I let her lay.  Is Lady Blanche with child finally? Or does she fair not well? The smell or breakfast cooking seeps through my chamber door as I wash and dress alone, a rare treat. As I brush through my hair, I hear voices and the sound of my beloved Kat laughing. I smile. Oh, such a rare treat to hear joyous sounds these bleak, dark days. I listen a little closer, and hear Dr. Dee. He must come with good tidings. I hurry and finish dressing to join them. As I enter the dining room, I see her. She is absolutely striking, but black as ink save her sea blue eyes. Long straight hair flows like silken black velvet down to her waist, her features soft and delicate. Her gown, like mourning cloth, black from her chest to the floor. Even her jewelry choice, lays to the call of midnight, as black onyx beads flow down the front of her and a large onyx ring graces the middle finger of her right hand.

John Dee: I rise with my wife, who quickly courtesies as I bend a knee. Princess Elizabeth motions us both rise.  “Well look who is here, finally awake. Come… come and join us, Princess. Do let me introduce you to my wife, Anthea.”

Elizabeth, Gloriana: I force politeness. After all, I am hosted in her family home. “Good morning, Lady Anthea.” Unable to compose completely, my voice grows sharp. “I see you take your fashion from the butcher, black as midnight. God willing your soul is not also so dark.”

John Dee: I look over at my wife, and cock my head. I think a message through my facial expressions, “What ever you are thinking, say it not, dear wife.”

Anthea Dee: My husband knows me so well. I stifle my thoughts and respond instead with, “I have much to mourn, Princess. My brother passed to the heavens a mere three months ago.” I choose to proceed carefully, but make my message clear. “Baron Cromwell sacrificed his every chance at courtly vocation to raise me and my sisters as his own, Princess, so he is due a parent’s morning.” I fight back tears at the thought of my beloved Gregory. “He sweats no more.”

Elizabeth, Gloriana: No words of sympathy shall come from me, but raised as royalty, I force a nod. Dr. Dee politely holds out a chair for me to sit, and then does the same for his wife. We sit in awkward silence for a minute as Kat brings us a breakfast of eggs, bacon, cheese and bread. “Kat, do join us.” As soon as Kat brings in her breakfast, I offer, “Please, allow me to say grace before we eat.” As I pray aloud, I look about the table. All heads bowed but hers, and she taps her fingers upon the table.  Annoyed, I chide, “Do you not pray to the Lord, Lady Anthea?”

Anthea Dee: I look over and state evenly, “Not this day”.

John Dee: I insert quickly before this goes any further, “Anthea’s sisters left for exile with Lord Walsingham and others earlier this morning, Princess. She is not herself. Anthea and I will reside here until their return.”

Elizabeth, Gloriana: Joyfully I ask, ”Dr. Dee, are you telling me the tide turns towards my sister, the rightful Queen of England?”

John Dee: As my wife and Kat begin eating, I respond with a wide smile, “Yes, Princess. I have come at Cecil’s bidding to tell you to return quickly to Hever and prepare to meet Her Majesty just outside London. We are talking days, Princess… mere days. Dudley’s forces are falling to the wayside, and all privy counselors save the Arch Bishop have swung to her bidding.”

Elizabeth, Gloriana: At the mention of Arch Bishop Cranmer, I see the Lady Anthea’s face drop in worry. Still, I slap my hand to the table, and with a mixture of joy and dread proclaim, “T’s God’s will. Mary will reign. And shall God also will, so shall I. Do tell me Dr. Dee, did the Arch Bishop head out with Lord Walsingham? No one would fault him.”

John Dee: I hold onto my wife’s hand under the table and gently squeeze it as I sign I know pain fills her. ”No, Princess. Cecil counseled him to run abroad, but His Grace walks alone here in England awaiting his fate.”

Elizabeth, Gloriana: “Dr. Dee, the Arch Bishop Cranmer is not alone. The Lord carries him. As I pray for myself, I also pray him to have courage in the both joyous and difficult times ahead.” I take a few bites of eggs and bacon, the nourishment building my strength with each bite. “Dr. Dee… I have much need of you in the coming days. I most desire your advisories from your knowledge found in the moon and stars. Would you do a reading for me?”

John Dee: I smile reassuringly at this noble woman. Her anxieties hold merit. Caution will be her savior, Mary’s laid baggage, her foe. “Of course, Princess. I will come visit you at Heaver once I’ve compiled my analysis within the week. Let me do help you now, as events are moving quickly. I look over to my wife, and knowing what is coming, she stares me down cold. “Anthea, dear… do make some herbal broth, will you?”

Anthea Dee: My husband wants me to read the Princess’ herb leaves? Heavens. I try not to show my annoyance with him, and nod politely and rise. I head into the kitchen, and seek the herbs I need, all carefully grown and dried as we were so lovingly taught by dear Thea Nia. As I boil the water. I carefully measure and mix the herbs I need, placing them in a cup gently heated, and then pour the water over and cover the cup to allow it to steep. My mind wanders off to my childhood here, and I smile as I remember my father all but gagging on this brew. Then I feel it, my father’s strong hand on my shoulder, chiding, “Just be done with it, Anthea. Read the leaves, and be done with it.” I bring the steeping hot tea into the dining room, and place it before my husband.

Elizabeth, Gloriana: As I watch this mysteriously beautiful woman place the cup down before Dr. Dee, I think,  ”Is she the Greek pagan I am told her mother was? Or is she a witch bred by her base born father? Or both?”

Kat Ashley: I sit in silence and take this all in. Horrified, my blood goes cold. We are in the presence of a witch. Our beloved Dr. John Dee is married to and dabbling in the occult.

John Dee: I gently push the herbal broth to Princess Elizabeth, and seeing both her and Lady Katherine’s eyes wide and faces stunned, I reassure them. “Princess, this is a Greek recipe, not poison. Do drink it down. Please. It will not hurt you.”

Elizabeth, Gloriana: I heard the stories of her mother, the Countess of Dorset, but I never believed them. Dr. Betts did say the Countess’ elixirs and brothes mended my father the King more than his leeches. I now see before me that he spoke truth. I take the cup, and slowly drink the broth down. It’s bitter, but tolerable. “Here then.” I push the cup back over to Dr. Dee.

John Dee: “Very good.” I hand the cup back to my wife, and ask, “Anthea, do tell me what the leaves unfold for you. Take your time, and read them carefully.

Anthea Dee: My husband knows full well I can’t read these herb leaves, but the truth of it is far worse than the Princess thinking this. I look into the cup and concentrate on the leaves before me. I close my eyes and silently plead, “Thea… Thea Nia… do please speak to me. Please Thea, I need your wisdom.” I begin humming a Greek lullaby, one sung to me first my Thea and my mother, then by Gregory. I open my eyes, and look around the table. My husband and the Princess nod at me inquisitively, while the Lady Katherine stares with her hand covering her mouth. The woman thinks me insane or a witch for sure.

Dr. John Dee: “What do the leaves tell you, Anthea?”

Elizabeth, Gloriana: “Yes, what do the leave tell you? I command you speak.”

Anthea Dee: As I plead to Thea silently, I hear her voice clear and strong, and I look to the princess and repeat what she tells me. “I smell burning flesh, Princess… and I see you gloriously rise from the ashes.”

~~~~~~~~~~ Fade To Black ~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The boy King spit puss in the piss pot;

As the Catholic Bitch waited her turn;

I listen for a message;

Oh father tell me, please I do beg you;

As the flowers will die on the vine,

Destiny eternal, but not by hands of the bloody.

T’is falls to the Virgin Regina.

Praying on the rock I see fires burn;

Oh my Gods, no…  Oh my Gods, no

Dearest Thomas, flames engulf him;

While from beyond, my father sobs;

He burns eternal, too… without her?

My heart aches, the grief raw.

Curse the bitch. I know how and will.

He spoke, and the flowers wilt.

Lilies of the valley, brown and brittle;

Irises in May, not in bloom;

To Italy, they grow wild in exile;

In defiance, I hold the Tudor rose; .

Here I stay, alone but for the voices.

Alone, but for the darkness.

Vallaria, she does protect me;

Oh in my heart, her love holds strong;

But the thorn does prick, 

And the blood drips tears through my soul.

Vallaria, go find him.You promised.

He waits, and cries for you.

Alone, but for the flames.

~~~~~~ Anthea Dee ~~~~~~~

The Fifth Son

 Assorted Writings: Robert Dudley, 1st Earl of Leicester  No Responses »
Nov 232012
 

I pause to reflect before I scratch the worst of news to my father onto parchment. My father, yes he is a mad man. As I settle here in Lynn, my forces depleting with men deserting in favor of the Princess Mary, who now proclaims herself Queen of England, I resign myself to the inevitable. Jane Dudley, imposed wife of my drunkard brother Guilford, will lose the crown thrust so unwillingly upon her head, and the heretic will reign. I look out at my depleted forces, now scurrying to Farmlingham Castle where Mary presides, disgusted. With no backbone to dispute it, I did my power hungry father’s bidding, leading men to arrest the true heir to the throne. What was I thinking? Did I really believe Northumberland could reign as king through the puppets of Jane and Guilford? Yes, I suppose I did. My father, he is a force in his own right — a brave knight, a master of manipulation, a demigod, I do swear. I thought no one could upend him, especially the sickly virgin old maid daughter of a forsaken Spanish queen. Though my father and brothers do not yet know it, we are all dead men, following my grandfather to the block. Even Princess Elizabeth, also usurped in this folly, will be unable to save us. And even if she could, why should she? After all, we betrayed her – betrayed her birthright, her friendship, her trust.

Until this very day, I was a blessed man. Fifth son of a Duke, favor and prestige is not supposed to follow me, but God looked kindly upon me anyway. Raised among royalty, educated by the masters, friends with the boy king and his beautiful Protestant sister, I wanted for nothing. When not in study, falconing, hunting, and riding horse filled my days. With no heritance coming and right poor future prospects, I lived like a prince, the rightly proud son of a Duke that was soon Lord Protector and king in all but name. Then I was matched to Amy Robsart, daughter of a knight in Syderstone, with no brothers, heiress of his Norfolk lands and estate. Our wedding grand, even King Edward and Princess Elizabeth attended. Love matters not. The marriage match is envious, and I am glad to have it. At 20 years old, I am a member of the Privy Council, member of the House of Commons, and knight with lands in Norfolk, Northamptonshire and Leicestershire – a great fortune bestowed to a 5th son, a great fortune bestowed to any son.

With Princess Mary, or should I say Queen Mary, rallying support far and wide, disaster lies on the horizon. My father will fall hard, and like the deck of cards beneath him, we all will follow. Yet, he knows not. While I watch events unfold around me, the Duke of Northumberland is spinning his web, pushing his agenda, pressuring that poor girl Jane to do his bidding, to rule as he would if the crown were his. As my father struts with his chest puffed full of the power of the moment, along with Henry Grey and Thomas Cranmer who abet him, the petite virgin waif all discounted, all shunned, all mocked, all ignored, all disdained, all denied for these many years, prepares to be England’s first ruling Queen. Norfolk, that bastard, will rejoice as she reunites this blessed realm with the Bishop of Rome. Spain, that heathen land, will rejoice as she reunites with her blood relatives against all English pride. God, I pray you protect and hold this blessed land in your loving hands, and may You see your way to ultimately lay St. Edward’s crown on the woman most able and willing to reign true to you, my beloved Elizabeth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I Bend A Knee

 Assorted Writings: Robert Dudley, 1st Earl of Leicester  No Responses »
Nov 232012
 

She walks alone. She stands alone. She rules alone. My beautiful Elizabeth, married to England she so tells me. Since Amy died, years I’ve waited, strung along like a fish on the line, consort and married in all but name and intimacy. For the last 20 years, I have not left her side. For the last 20 years, I have done her bidding, organized her grand events, represented her with ambassadors, built her economy, patronized the arts, counseled her wisely. Though in chambers adjoined to hers, for the last 20 years, I have pined for her, kissing, touching and fondling just an erotic tease. Yes there have been women, but when with them, only with the thought of her — an elaborate fantasy played out to maintain my sanity, maintain my manhood. Bess is the love of my life, and my heart does reassure, I hers, and all do hate me for it. Jealous bastards the other Privy Counselors are. They paint me as an opportunist, a wife murderer, a liar and thief. They know me not. Cecil and Walsingham, they know me not. Hatton, Raleigh and Parker, they know me not.

Elizabeth, Regina and Robert Dudley

Francis, Duke of Alencon and Anjou, a son and brother of French Kings; this is the man Cecil and the bitch Catherine DeMedici picked for her. God why? Anjou is short, marked by small pox, devoid of interest in hunting, horsemanship and sports. Rumors say he is into buggery. And this is who Cecil picks for my Elizabeth? A toad for the beauty of Christendom? The man is not even loyal to his own kin, imprisoned once under one brother’s rule, disloyal to the second again. And he will be loyal to Gloriana? To England? Cecil must be desperate, eager to marry her off to a foreign noble before the stop of her bleeds. Oh how I live for those days, those days after the bleeds stop, as we will be free to make love at last — free to be one at last.

Francis, Duke of Alencon and Anjou

As I sit here in the Great Hall, I watch the courting of the frog to the Queen, and it sickens me. To seal an alliance, there must be a better way. To defend from the Spanish, there must be a better way. God enlighten us. The French ambassador walks by me, tips a nod and glares, the battle won this day in his feeble mind. I worry not. My Elizabeth belongs to no man, no man — not the frog, not the Holy Roman Emperor, not the Bishop of Rome, not Cecil and the Privy Council, not me. As the courtiers and ladies dance, I think back upon our life together, our love together. We grew up and learned from Ascham, together. We languished in The Tower, and nearly died at her sister’s hand, together. We lived, loved, danced, planned, worshiped, prayed, and grew older and wiser, together.  Yes, she loves me. Yes, she cherishes me. Yes, she wants me. Yes, she owns me, not the other way around, and as it should be. For my Elizabeth, my lover, my heart, my Queen, I give my soul. I bend a knee.

(Elizabeth, Regina and Robert Dudley) England Will Reap The Glory

 Assorted Writings: Tudor Era Unspecified  1 Response »
Jun 242012
 

Robert Dudley: Norfolk just confirmed it. Mary lays dying, soon to meet her maker. Those she burned will be waiting to watch the judgement. Instead I am riding out to Hever and visit with Elizabeth to give her the news. God is good. The road was very dangerous for my dearest, but it now leads to the crown. Long may she reign. As I approach Hever, I see her with Kat and Blanche, dancing in the gardens. I lay back before approach and watch them, so care free now, I do hate to spoil the moment. Oh there, she caught sight of me. I ride on over and dismount my steed. I bow most graciously, “Good Afternoon, Ladies. Your dance does my heart good.” I motion to Kat, and she and Blanche begin walking back to the estate.

Elizabeth Tudor: “Oh Robin, what a beautiful day it is!” A bit short of breath from dancing, I take a seat. “What ever brings you here today? You can never stay away from me can you?” I say with a smile, but then I see in his eyes; it is not of good news. ”Or is that my sister bids me to to London. You must tell her I am ill!” I begin to panic at the thought of her ordering to and from her castle. Each trip has hardened my heart toward her more and more. “She will force me to sign or burn me, or Gods Robin, I won’t see her. No.”

Robert Dudley: I sit beside, my Elizabeth who soon I must share and take her hand. “Shhhhhhh…. love. Mary… she is dying. Arch Bishop Pole has given her the last rights. Soon, my dearest, you shall be queen if you aren’t already so.”

Elizabeth Tudor: My heart skips many beats; too many. Over whelmed with the news I have long expected, but yet it still hurts — and yet I am relieved. I look to my Robin and lay my head into his chest and weep. I know that I will compose myself and ride intoEngland stronger than ever but now, for this moment I will mourn the sister that I once knew — the one that cared for me and protected me when we were young. What a disappointment I was to her; in that lay the irony of the disappointment she was to not only me but the great Kingdom my father built. I raise my head and look to him. “My soul, my heart is torment. I am conflicted with the greatest of sorrow for I have no other of kin to call on, but I am happy.” Batting back tears, I take a kerchief he offers. “Am I a bad soul? Am I my fathers daughter in that I see victory in the death of mine own family?” A side of me I will never allow another to see. Words spoken that are only meant for mine dear heart to hear and never to share. In need of comfort I embrace him as tight as if he were my air I breath and wait to hear words of comfort I am sure he will have for me.

Robert Dudley: I hold Elizabeth close and whisper in her ear. “You were meant to reign, dearest. Every thing you have been through, every thing you have worked for will lead you to your destiny.” I kiss her softly, and speak sincerely. “And love, I fear if the Lord does not take Mary, than she will ultimately take you. Like your father before you, Elizabeth, you were born to rule, and you shall to his greatest achievement and more. You are his blood, but with your own mind. A tyrant no, but brilliant and thoughtful yes. England will reap the glory.”

Elizabeth Tudor: “You sooth my aching heart.” I take his face into my hands and kiss him. “Then my first command as Queen of England is that you, (I say with emphasis) Sir Robert Dudley, my Robin, well never leave my side. You will ride into England with my parade of steeds. You will be mine forever more.” I begin to feel a bit stronger and stand. I pull him to me. “Tonight, when the sunsets, we will dance, for tomorrow we will ride into London and take what is rightful mine by blood, law and God’s good given grace.”

Robert Dudley: ”Yes, my Queen. Once the ring is on your hand, we shall go. If not tomorrow, then soon thereafter.” I lift her into my arms. “Elizabeth, while you are still just mine, let me love you… if not completely, at least with passion.” I kiss her lovingly in the French style, and carry her back towards the estate. “Shall we go inside now?”

Elizabeth Tudor: ”You will love me, no, not completely as you say, but you will bend the knee.” I laugh. “Let us go to my chamber and feast. I need you tonight. I need you always. But tonight you will not leave my side to breathe!” I rest in his arms, once in my chamber, I lie back on my bed and begin to dream of a new world that soon will be mine. I look to Robin and more than wish I could share it all with him. But no, I rule alone.

Robert Dudley: As she lies on the bed, I follow her lead and bend a knee. I say with erotic passion rather than reverence, “Your Majesty, command me. Tell me your greatest desire. I am yours.”

~~~~~ FADE TO BLACK ~~~~~