The Serpent Queen

29. The king of England

15th of January, 1536, Paris

Standing in the main hall of the Louvre Palace, in the center of Paris and right next to the River Seine, stood King Francis, his family and the court of France.

The great day had finally arrived for him to receive the King of England and the King of Scotland for the marriage of his daughter Madeleine.

King Francis had done his best to advance the celebrations as lavishly as possible.  After all, there was much to celebrate: the wedding of his favorite daughter, the engagement of his youngest son, and the alliance that marriage and engagement would entail.

He wanted to be able to rub in Henry Tudor's, the English king's face, how well off Francis was.

A stable reign, strong marriages for two of his five children and his health was optimal.

Henry Tudor had developed leg ulcers since his accident. His leg became inflamed again and again and after which he got a terrible pain.

At forty-one, he was only three years older than King Francis, yet Henry looked much older and more tired than him, many remarked, including Henry himself.

Eleanor stood next to Francis, dressed in a French-style dark purple dress. She had hidden her dark hair under a French hood.

She had wanted not come with the court at first, but the children had persuaded her to accompany them, albeit reluctantly.

It hadn't even been a week since her aunt, Queen Catherine, had passed away in her residence at Kimbolton Palace. The news had reached her soon after her death with the report that the English court had celebrated her aunt's death exuberantly and had dressed in the color yellow.

On the other side of Francis stood the Dauphin. Dressed as always in a dark colored doublet. He had his arms behind his back and a slightly saddened look on his face. The news that his sister was getting married had hit him hard. He had always been very close to Madeleine and would miss her immensely.

Francis looked at his younger brother who, like him, had a saddened look on his face.  He held his wife's hand and stroked her hand with his thumb.

Catherine, now four months pregnant, was dressed in a dress similar to the Queen's but in a light blue colour, which made her light up.

Her belly was already much more visible and there was no longer any doubt whether she was pregnant or not.

Her long blonde hair was braided into five braids and pulled up into a low chignon over which she wore a French-style headband.

She put her hand on her belly as she felt her baby's flutter. Although she was only four months pregnant, she occasionally felt the baby, which was a good sign.

Henri had been delighted when Catherine admitted for the first time that she had felt their child. He had immediately told the king, who in response organized a ball and donated food to the poor in the hope of blessing his grandchild with goodness.

The trumpeters blew their trumpets and the herald announced that the King and Queen of England and the King of Scotland had arrived.

It was not long before the English royal couple, together with the Scottish king, made their entrance.

Catherine, like the rest of those present, sank into a curtsy as King Francis welcomed their guests.

Catherine stared through her eyelashes at Anne Boleyn who stood smiling beside Henry Tudor. Like Catherine, Anne was also pregnant, although she was only in her third month.

Catherine wondered why Henry had gone to such lengths to divorce his first wife since Anne Boleyn was not a great beauty.

"King James, may I present my daughter and your bride; Princess Madeleine of France." King Francis said to the Scottish king. He gestured to his daughter who came to stand next to him. Madeleine sank into a deep curtsy in which she stayed for a few seconds and then rose again.

"Your Majesty." she greeted him.
She looked up at James towering over her.

He wasn't handsome, but she couldn't call him ugly either. He had reddish hair, like his Uncle Henry Tudor, and dark brown eyes. He was broad but not quite fat, and he didn't look like a barbarian, as Madeleine had expected.

In her thoughts she praised God that he was not an ugly man.

"Your Highness, dearest wife. It is my honor to finally meet you. Your portrait did not lie, you are as beautiful in real life as in your portrait."

King Francis smiled contentedly and looked at Henry and Anne Boleyn who had passed on to greet his wife and children. He saw Henry's envious look at his offspring and smiled triumphantly.

"I'll leave you alone so you can get to know each other." Francis nodded at James and his daughter, then walked over to Henry.

"Let me introduce you to my children." he said as he placed a hand on Henry's back and pushed him gently. "I'm sure you remember Francis, and then we have Henri and his wife Catherine Di'medici, who carries my grandchild in her womb, Charles, your daughter's betrothed, and Louise, the youngest." King Francis ran through the queue.

Henry said nothing but nodded politely to the children.

Anne looked attentively at the children of the French king. She had known the two eldest princes and the eldest princess when they were young children and Anne was still maid-in-waiting to the late Queen Claude. That was nearly fourteen years ago and a lot had changed.

Anne's gaze lingered on Catherine, who gave her a look of hatred. Anne smiled sweetly at her, knowing why Catherine looked at her like that.

She was the niece of the holy father; the man who refused to allow Henry his annulment. As a solution, Henry had to separate from Rome and founded his own church: the Church of England.

"Catherine, stop." Henri whispered softly to his wife when he noticed the looks between her and Anne Boleyn.

Catherine turned her face to Henri, and her gaze immediately softened. "I haven't done anything, yet. Im just looking at her." She said innocently, smiling at Henri.

King Francis clapped his hands briefly, which caught the attention of all present.

"Dear friends, I offer that we retire to rest for tomorrow's festivities." He said. "You may all leave."

"It is important that you treat the Queen with respect. I know about your hatred towards them, but you have to hide it.  This alliance is important for the future of France." Henri said as they left the room and climbed the stairs to Catherine's apartments.

"I understand that very well Henri. I will do my best to be polite to them, I promise you if you can promise me something too."

Henri looked at her questioningly. "And what must I promise you?"

"Promise me that when we return to Fontainebleau you will have a box of oranges delivered, God knows how much I crave oranges," Catherine sighed at the thoughts of the sweet oranges she had been longing for for hours. "Oh, my feet hurt me." She moaned now as she climbed the last steps of the stairs.

Henry looked at her concerned. "Shall I massage your feet." Henry offered generously. Catherine smiled as she shook her head. "That's not for you to do. I'll ask one of the maids or my ladies-in-waiting. You'll have to retire to rest, Henri, then I'll do the same."

Henry nodded. "When you are safe in your rooms I will return to my own rooms. You are not supposed to be left alone, especially not in your current situation."