Chapter XVII

January, 1529

"You are what?!" said Lady Mary, almost screaming with rage. "You cannot be serious, uncle! No! I will not believe it!"

"It is my plan," said Norfolk calmly, watching her anger simmer down. "You do not have to believe it, but trust me. It will be carried out."

"No..." whimpered Lady Mary.

"It is for the best, sister," added her sister, the more sophisticated and intelligent Anne. "You have done the most you can for our family, and there's nothing else you can do. Why waste time and do nothing when I can advance our status and power?"

"Indeed," agreed their father, to Lady Mary's shock. "His Grace had proven himself to be true to his words, and I have decided it would be best for us Boleyns to follow his instruction. I have been given more land and wealth, and the King has acknowledged your son as his own and accepted him in the nursery. You should be grateful, Mary! You do not need to worry about raising the child. The King will give him a prestigious education, and who knows? Maybe when he is older, he will be given an earldom, or maybe even a dukedom. You will be rewarded with more jewels and money, and your husband will be given lands and maybe even an elevation. You can retire from Court and return to your husband. Carey has waited enough, don't you think?"

"I will never see him again?" whispered Lady Mary, her eyes filled with tears.

"Who?" said Norfolk cruelly. "Your boy or the King?"

"The King and my son..."

"Open your eyes, girl! The King may profess his love to you day and night, in front of the entire Court and in bed with you, but he will NEVER love you truly! You have seen those other women come and go, and now you are one of them. In a matter of days, you will bade goodbye to your precious King and return to your husband. You will remain in his estates for as long as you live, and only when you are summoned by either me, your father or the King, you will come back to Court. As for your son, he will be treated like a prince and make a fine marriage. Nothing to concern your pretty head about. You have opened your legs for the King, and you will soon open them for your husband."

"But why..."

"Are you dumb, Mary?! Did you inherit nothing from your parents?! By God! I should have sent you to a nunnery! THE KING NO LONGER LOVES YOU! HE HAS HIS BOLEYN SON AND THAT IS ALL HE WANTS! HE WILL NEVER ASK ABOUT YOU AGAIN!"

"Why Anne? Why not anyone else...?"

"I see you are blind as well as dumb. If you haven't noticed, the King has already set his eyes on Anne, and it will be simpler for us if she becomes his object of desire. She also had a brief history with our King, which will simplify matters."

"The King will never leave his wife and bastardise his children and grandchildren."

"Oh really? The good old King Richard III bastardised an entire brood of nephews and nieces, so why can't King Henry VIII?"

"He will be my puppet," boasted Anne.

Wiltshire nodded in agreement.

"Our puppet," corrected Norfolk. "We will rule England through a lovesick king."

"What of Queen Catherine?!" demanded Lady Mary. "She is returning to England at any day. After her stay in Spain and Portugal, do you expect her cousins to allow this to happen?!"

"Princess Catherine," said Norfolk, spitting with contempt. "She can retain the status of Dowager Princess of Wales or join a nunnery or leave England. I favour the latter option."

"Your views aren't important anymore, sister," said Anne smugly. "You had your little...dalliance with the King, and now it is over."

Lady Mary's mouth dropped open.

"She is right," said Norfolk, to her absolute horror. "You are of no further use to us, apart from cementing your marriage with Carey by having his children. If the King has an old flame with you after a couple of years, your sons may have more titles. That is the best you can hope for. At the moment, our most powerful cards are Anne and George. They will continue rising our family fortunes with wit. A gift you never had, Lady Portland."

Lady Mary looked away.

He had addressed her by her married title. Her husband was the Earl of Portland, but only through Norfolk's good graces, and now she is of no further use to him.

From that moment, he did not consider her a member of the Howard-Boleyn family. She would live the rest of her life in partial isolation in the countryside.

Away from Court intrigues.

Away from familiar faces.

Most of all, away from Norfolk's rising star; Anne.

"George, you have done well," Norfolk was saying, his attentions away from Lady Mary. "You have charmed the King, and he is prepared to make you a knight of the Garter. However, that is not enough to secure our plans. As I have said many times with your father, one hurdle you must pass before Anne can strike, is to marry into the King's family. I do not care if it is either through a bastard daughter or a niece, but you must marry a Tudor girl."

"He has done more than well," objected Anne, placing a cold, smooth hand on George's shoulder. "I watched him in festivities, and noticed that Princess Margaret Tudor had fallen for him. Of course all the ladies at Court love him, but Princess Margaret is truly in love."

Wiltshire's eyes sparkled at the prospect of having a princess as his daughter-in-law.

"Princess Margaret?" he said in wonder. "The King's own daughter?!"

"My sister-in-law, a princess of England," said Lady Mary bitterly. "Who can surpass that?"

"Your sister," replied Norfolk. "Anne will be Queen of England. Even with you, Lady Portland, the three of you will be the stars of the family, and your names will always be remembered. Mary, as the King's mistress, George, as the King's son-in-law, and Anne, as the King's wife."

"It was my destiny to marry him," said Anne fervently. "Ever since I was in the cradle. Even when he was only the duke of York, I would've still been married to him. If it wasn't for that Spanish cow, I would've been mother of princes already!"

Lady Mary rolled her eyes.

She had heard that tale well over a million times...

"Why her?" she couldn't resist saying. "Why did Henry VII want his son to marry Anne? Why not me? I am the elder sister!"

"Henry VIII always said he was destined for the Church," said George, with a small frown.

"The King was betrothed to Anne when they were young," said Norfolk briskly. "It was secret, and only a few people knew about it. The idea was for the King to marry a Howard girl and Anne was the lucky one chosen. However, I was given permission to marry Princess Anne of York, and our family in a way, became closer to the King's. Henry VII broke the betrothal and announced to the world that his second son will be a prince of the Church. After Arthur Tudor's death, you know the tale that our King was betrothed to his brother's widow. However, you don't know that around that time, there were still talks of a marriage between the King and Anne. She was very young when she glimpsed him before she went to the Netherlands. I doubt he remembered her."

"I remembered him," declared Anne.

"What is the plan?" said Wiltshire, pouring himself a cup of fine ale.

"Anne will entice the King," explained Norfolk. "She will make him fall madly in love with her, but she will not give up her virginity unlike Mary. Anne, you have learnt well from the French and you will use it to keep him attracted to you until he marries you."

"Until?" said Anne, with a deep frown.

"We will discuss the rest of the plan at a later date," decided Norfolk dismissively. "For now, George, you will ensure the King's eyes are only at Anne. No one else. No other woman, no matter how witty or beautiful she is. Mary, you will help our cause by staying out of Anne's way, unless you wish to be her lady-in-waiting. Actually, forget the last bit. Even as a lady-in-waiting to your sister, you may get in the way. I do not expect to see you here for the majority of the year."

"I do not want you as a lady-in-waiting anyway," said Anne, with a smug smile. "You will only get in my

way, as always. Uncle, with your permission, I will like Mary to deliver a...couple of messages for me."

She loved opportunities to humiliate her sister.

"What?" said Norfolk, a little startled. "Our plans have not moved forward yet! The King could not have offered you marriage already!"

"Not marriage, dear uncle!" laughed Anne, tossing her hair back gracefully. "The King has given me gifts already. It will not be long before marriage does come my way! A few days ago, the King has sent me a letter, asking me to be his mistress. I want Mary to give him my reply today. I want Mary to deliver my refusal before she leaves for her husband."

"That is cruel," commented George.

"It is fitting though," said Norfolk, with a slow, cruel nod. "Mary can officially end her affair with the King, and Anne can officially begin hers. Well done Anne. I am pleased at least one of my nieces has a useful mind and understanding of political movements."

Anne smiled charmingly back at him.

"Read the letter," Wiltshire ordered. "And then your reply."

With long, bony white fingers, Anne delicately pulled out two pieces of parchment from a pouch and opened it carefully.

"Dear Lady Anne," she read aloud, her eyes glittering with anticipation, conflicting with Lady Mary's eyes of sorrow. "Since I saw you that day, desire has overcome me. Desire for you, Lady Anne. That ruby necklace I sent you is full of love I bear for you. If you love me as much as I do to you, come to my chambers tonight. Yours, Henry Rex."

Norfolk sniggered a little.

"Your Majesty," Anne read her own response. "I am touched that you desire me over all the other ladies in Court, and I admit I have found your attentions gratifying and sweet. I love you too, but I cannot lower myself to be a common whore and sleep with you. Yours, Lady Anne Boleyn." She looked at Norfolk and Wiltshire with a triumphant smile.

"Brilliant," Norfolk said simply. "Absolutely brilliant. Wiltshire, you've raised her well."

Wiltshire smiled, pleased.

"I am pleased everyone is aware of the plan now," said Norfolk, finishing their family meeting. "Anne, you will stay here and continue attracting the King to our favour. Lady Portland, you will leave for your husband's estates immediately and George, you better prepare yourself for the journey to Scotland. You may be staying there for quite some time."

Anne laughed but stopped when Norfolk silenced her with a glare.

"You have a goal, he has his," he said primly, reaching for a quill and parchment. "You win us favour with the King, and George plays his part by joining us into royalty through another path."

"No uncle," said Anne, with a devious sparkler in her eyes. "I do not win us favour with the King. I win myself favour with him."

Her face as white as death, Princess Margaret rode forward towards the border between England and Scotland for her new home.

Every step closer, she was reminded of the horrible time there under her aunt's 'care'.

There was word that King James IV of Scots was unwell again, and he would not live to see this year's Christmas. Princess Margaret murmured a quick prayer for his speedy recovery. From what she remembered, James IV was the only member of the royal family who was polite, courteous and loving to everyone. Once he is cloaked by death, the spark of light in Scotland will be clouded with darkness, there was no doubt about that.

She hoped her betrothed would be kinder and more mature from the little beast she lived with a few years ago, and Queen Margaret may have grown a heart.

The latter was a dream and far from reality.

Princess Margaret maintained a passive expression as she continued her journey closer to matrimony and motherhood, her mind tumbling with emotions. She felt depressed that her mother chose to remain in Spain and Portugal rather than to accompany her to Scotland. She always loved and respected her, but this was the moment she gravely needed her, and she wasn't there. Princess Margaret always suspected that her sister Mary was their mother's favourite, but she had no idea that their lady mother would visit Princess Mary over travelling with her to her wedding.

Thank the Almighty that George was beside her!

"How long will you stay in Scotland with me?" she asked, as George rode closer to her. "Will my father expect you back after my wedding?"

"I am the official ambassador for England," said George pleasantly, flashing her a smile. "The King has decided that you would prefer a man like me as ambassador rather than an older gentleman. I will remain with you in Scotland unless I am sent back to England on urgent business. Do not worry, princess. I have been trained to be a diplomat since I was a lad. Political affairs are in my capable hands. All you need to concern yourself with...is the marriage."

The prospect of marrying the Duke of Rothesay seemed more daunting than ever.

"What if I do not bear him a son?" wondered Princess Margaret fearfully. "I heard that his mother, the Queen, has faced many misfortunes in bringing Scotland children. What if I only have daughters, or no children at all?"

"Do not worry," said George soothingly. He had been prepared to ease the young princess's anxieties and worries a week before they set off on the journey to Scotland. "Your royal father and lady mother have great success in bearing children for England, and I have no doubt that you will too. If the Scots do object to infertility, the Queen of Scots must remember that you are not just her daughter-in-law, but her niece by blood and the daughter of the powerful King of England and a relative of the Spaniards, Austrians and Portuguese through your lady mother."

"My sister Joanna is fortunate to stay in England. So is Elizabeth."

"In what way, Your Highness?"

"Elizabeth is betrothed to Archduke Ferdinand of Austria, Infante of Spain. Once they marry, they will live in Spain or in some other Habsburg land, and our sister Mary will be there already. Besides, Archduke Ferdinand is very friendly."

"How do you know, Your Highness? You were only a child when Archduke Ferdinand came to England with his mother, the Queen of Castile."

"Mother always spoke to father of his goodness."

"Archduke Ferdinand is her nephew. Of course she will promote his kindness."

"Joanna is still betrothed to the Duke of Orleans and will most likely marry him. I doubt she will have to move to France. The Duke isn't barbaric with a cruel mother either. I read the letters Queen Claude wrote to him before she died. They were kind. His aunt, Queen Marguerite of Navarre also sends beautiful letters almost every week." She was bitter. "The Queen of Scots never sent me any letters, nor the Duke of Rothesay. I will die unhappy in Scotland."

"Alas, you are a princess, Your Highness. It is your fate to marry for the good of England. You are fortunate that kings no longer ask for royal daughters-in-law to be sent to them when they are still infants like they did in the reign of King Henry II of England."

"I lived in Scotland when I was a child."

Silence fell as they continued journeying forward.

"The King cares for you," spoke George as the Scottish royal party came into view. "So does your lady mother. They still love you, but politics is politics. It seems all English princess who marry into Scotland are cursed with misfortune."

"What?" Princess Margaret looked at him with alarm. "Am I cursed?!"

"Princess Joan of England, daughter of King John. She was healthy, but when she went to Scotland, her health declined. Of course the weather is to blame, but she was robust when she was betrothed to the Count of Lusignan earlier on...Princess Margaret of England, daughter of King Henry III. She was sent to Scotland as a child. I believe she suffered dismally and was unhappy there. After her, another Princess Joan of England, this time the daughter of King Edward II. Married as a child and she had to later suffer her husband's traitorous actions and infidelity."

"After her it is Aunt Margaret, the present queen. If it was my sister Joanna in my place today, this so-called 'Scottish Curse' may still continue. You are right, Viscount Rochford. If there is a curse, then I will be the one to break it. Mother always said that God will reward those who suffer. I will cope in my marriage and bear Scottish heirs until the time is right."

"Spoken like a true queen, Your Highness."

He gracefully jumped off his horse and helped Princess Margaret off hers as the Scottish royal party watched them sullenly.

"Princess Margaret," said the Queen coldly, glancing at her carelessly. "I hope you have inherited your mother's fertility. Scotland needs heirs. Who is this? I heard that the King of England appointed a new ambassador to see through this...marriage."

"Viscount Rochford, Your Majesty," said George, with a courteous bow. "I am the Earl of Wiltshire's son, Lord George Boleyn."

"Hmmph. Mary Carey's brother, aren't you?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Well! My brother now has the grace to send his mistress's relatives as ambassadors! First he robs my son his rightful bride, and now he sends a mistress's brother as ambassador!"

Queen Margaret laughed harshly.

A young man stepped forward, his small beady eyes glaring at Princess Margaret arrogantly. He did not even give George a second glance.

Something told George it was the proud Duke of Rothesay.

Hmmm, thought George, as he bowed politely. His portrait the Scottish ambassador showed the King was more flattering.

"You look the same," said the Duke distastefully, looking at Princess Margaret. "I thought you would've transformed into a beautiful swan, but I guess not. Welcome to Scotland. I heard your lady mother was very fertile. I hope you are too."

George bit back a rather nasty retort.

Margaret looked disapprovingly at her son, but said nothing.

"Come," she said shortly to the English party. "Tomorrow the wedding will be held. You must all rest and eat. Refreshments have been prepared for you. Princess Margaret, are you aware that your English maids will be sent back to England once you marry my son?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," said her young namesake, in a rather calm voice. "I will be a Scottish princess once I marry His Royal Highness, the Duke of Rothesay."

Margaret narrowed her eyes. "It will be expected of you to act in a proper manner. You should be honoured to marry my son. If it wasn't for the insistence of your mother, I would have wanted a French princess as a daughter-in-law..."

Princess Margaret just smiled with a demure curtsey. This was just the beginning; her aunt's taunts will soon be nothing but buzzing in her ears.

Princess Margaret-now the Duchess of Rothesay-stood shivering in her new bedchamber in nothing but her silky nightgown, her mousy brown hair tumbling down her back.

She heard loud laughter from outside.

She shrunk closer to her bed, praying her new husband will be merciful to her in bed. She heard word that he could be quite violent at times.

The door opened, and James, Duke of Rothesay entered with three of his closest companions; three men Princess Margaret already loathed.

Clearly all three of them were extremely drunk.

"Your Highness," said one (James Sandilands, 1st Lord Torphichen), clumsily bowing to Princess Margaret with a belch.

"Leave," ordered James, stumbling with his clothes.

"Enjoy, Your Highness," slurred another (Patrick Hepburn, 3rd Earl of Bothwell) with a hiccup. "Ride her like you would a horse! The-hic-queen's orders. Hic!"

James laughed with his uncouth friends and waited until they left, before turning his attentions to his terrified bride. With a sly smile, he stripped himself of his clothes and approached her slowly, enjoying her face turn whiter every step he took. His father-a notorious womaniser in his youth-had advised him the most...entertaining methods of pleasuring himself with a woman (to the disgust of Queen Margaret) and as a hot-headed young man, James could not wait to try it out.

Apparently a scared, demure virgin bride was the most enjoyable to bed.

It was well-known that James followed the Scottish King in his footsteps of sleeping with other women, but he went a step further.

He loved the painful cries of women; not their pleasured ones.

"My love..." smirked James, crawling onto the royal bed. "Are you ready to welcome my seed like the slut that you are?"

"I am not a slut!" said Princess Margaret indignantly.

"My, my, a temper too!" He pushed her nightgown up and moved her legs slightly further apart. "Not a surprise though...haven't you heard? Your bastard sister in Italy is making quite a name for herself. They call her 'the Pope's favourite mare." Seeing her disgusted look, he laughed more maniacally and pounded into her mercilessly.

Princess Margaret cried out in pain and James laughed even harder.

After a few minutes, which felt like hours to her, he groaned and rolled off her, leaving her trembling in fear and confusion.

"You're no fun," murmured James, closing his eyes slowly. "Father is right. Wives are boring. Always as modest as lambs. You know what? My mistress is more pleasurable than you."

Sorry for the long wait. Again. All ideas welcome. Please read and review :)