Tudor Rose

iv. regency

January 13, 1519

Thoughtfully, I gazed out the window and surveyed my kingdom. The weather was typical and unsurprising- dark clouds loomed over the land menacingly, always carrying the threat of rain with them but hardly ever following through. In the distance, I could see a river. The current lazily moved along, looking as tired as the palace.

Henry was gone again, this time to deal with disputes along the Northern border, near Scotland, and I was left as Queen Regent for the time being. At the same time that Henry departed, Katherine and Anne returned to Hatfield. So I was alone at court, with the exception of my mother, and facing the immense stress and pressure of being regent. 

As Clara tugged on my hair gently, I pondered my responsibilities. The Lady Chapel at Westminster Abbey, an ode to the Blessed Virgin Mary that was added by Henry VII, was nearly complete and awaiting a few signatures in order to finish the construction, so I had to do that. Wolsey and the French Ambassador arranged a briefing with me later in the day to discuss the terms of the new French alliance, and then a full privy council meeting was set to occur immediately after. It was a mildly busy day, with only a few moments to myself. 

Clara placed the last pin in my hair, and then stepped back. I thanked her, as she was always so talented at styling my hair and did an impeccable job each time. I hurried out of the room, optimistic and ready to face the day.

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"Claude and Francis have asked us to do what?" I shrieked, gawking at the ambassador. 

"My king and queen want Princess Anne to live at French court when she is older, perhaps ten or eleven years old," the French ambassador explained, his patience tiring, "They believe it will accustom her to the nation she will one day rule."

"No," I answered firmly, "Anne is an English princess, not a French one. I could not bear being separated from my daughter more than I am currently. So, my answer is no."

"Your Majesty, I respectfully disagree. This could be a wonderful opportunity for the princess," Wolsey chimed, siding with the ambassador rather than me. 

"My answer is no," I repeated, completely ignoring what Wolsey had just said, "But if, upon his return, my husband disagrees with my decision," I compromised, "Then I will happily reconsider."

That seemed to satisfy Wolsey and the Frenchman because they nodded in blissful unison. I was content with the decision, as I was sure that Henry would see my perspective on the situation and agree. Even so, as queen, I was tasked with the upbringing of royal children and so the decision was ultimately mine. There was simply no way that Anne would live in France, a country she'd likely spend the better half of her life in already, when England was perfectly suitable. It was totally unnecessary, perhaps a plot on Francis and Claude's part to use her as leverage should we ever have conflicts. It was a clever device, but unacceptable all the same. 

And so I identified one perk of being regent- there was no need to consult Henry on political matters. Everything was up to me, at least until the king returned. 

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January 14, 1519

To the eventual chagrin of King Francis and Queen Claude, their ambassador set off the following morning for France despite being unsuccessful. With him, he took the future of England and France's peace, which was enough to make me shiver with fear and anticipation. 

"Any news from Scotland, Your Grace?" I asked, my tone and demeanor unusually calm and relaxed.

Charles Brandon, the recently created Duke of Suffolk, seemed unbothered by my question. Perhaps, I considered, he had finally given up on his mission to dethrone me. As quickly as the silly idea came into my mind, it was dismissed. No, Brandon had made it quite clear that he'd only be happy once my head was in a basket. Despite him being married to Mary Tudor, one of my closest friends and confidants, I couldn't bring myself to enjoy his company. What the Tudor siblings found enjoyable in his presence was foreign to me. He was a most disagreeable man and I loathed him as much as he loathed me. There was bad blood, to say the least.