Princess Mary, a rebellious, golden child of the Tudor family, at the age of eighteen is forced into an arranged marriage with King Louis of France - an aggressively jealous main in his late fifties.
When troubles arise, Mary is cornered and throu...
The next morning I walked with my ladies-in-waiting in the beautiful gardens of France. It was the beginning of March, and the season moved from winter blasts into spring rain. I wrapped my arm snug around Lady Joan as we glided through the wet greens.
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"If I was to tell you something, could you keep it a secret?" I probed Joan.
"Of course, my Lady." She beamed.
I paused for a moment and spun to face her. "Sir Charles Brandon has asked for my hand."
Lady Joan halted. Her wide eyes meeting mine, "The King of England granted the Duke of Suffolk this blessing?"
I turned away from her, and continued forward, "Not yet. But as you know, my brother will be here by the end of the week. Charles will ask him then." I fiddled with the ends of my hair and continued, "I hope Henry remembers our agreement. Before I left for France I asked him if once the King of France had passed away, if I could marry whom I saw fit."
"And your Highness agreed?" Joan probed.
"Not in so many words," I admitted.
"I'm sure the King of England knows about your feelings for the Duke, but he would want any future marriage to be to his advantage, and to the advantage of England."
Joan was right, but my stubborn heart didn't want to hear it.
"I wish I could just elope with Charles, and abandon my duties." I bluntly admitted.
"Hush now," Joan began, "that is treason."
Before I could respond, a tall dark handsome man stood firmly against the nearest oak tree. "Charles!" I beamed, hurrying towards him.
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"Your Highness," He bowed formally before me. Charles then turned to my ladies in waiting, "May I have a private audience with Lady Mary?" He probed.
My ladies-in-waiting, Lady Mabell, Lady Joan, Lady Anne and Lady Mary, curtseyed and huddled off.
"How can I be of service to you, my love?" I probed Charles, before pulling him towards me for a long, sweet kiss.
"You can start by marrying me," Charles admitted, his eyes focused on mine.
"I've already said yes."
"I mean today. Marry me today." A long silence drifted between us.
"Charles, why the urgency? We have not even asked my brother yet. To marry without the permission of the King is treason. I know we feel strongly, but let's not be foolish." I began, pulling away from him.
"What if Henry says no to our union? He will marry you off to gain another advantageous alliance. You will be played on Henry's chess board as another piece that needs to make her move for England."
"Do you forget I am a princess of England. I can never put my happiness before that of England."
"So are you saying you are fine to live a life not by my side?"
"Of course not..."
"But what if that is Henry's will. You can not disobey."
Realisation emersed me, what if my brother doesn't keep his word? "I don't want to live a life without you Charles."
"Then marry me, Mary, so he can't use you again. Marry me Mary, so no matter his decision, we will be together forever."
Risk treason for love? Have we really fallen that far? The words that flew out of my mouth had been there the whole time, "Yes Charles. Let's marry tonight."
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On the 3rd of March, 1515, I married Charles Brandon, 1st Duke of Suffolk in secrecy in France. This was treason, as I was a Royal Princess, being married off without the King of England's consent. We had not only betrayed the crown, but our dear friend and my brother.
But as I turned beside me to see my husband, all that fear disappeared. I had finally followed my heart, although it may lead to our end.
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