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posted November 06, 2017 04:36 AM            

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Sometimes the Queen though back to her first husband. Their marriage had been like all arranged royal marriages. You receive who you receive and if love comes then it is beautiful and if not, then you carry on for the Kingdom and your country.
Arthur and her happened to blend in a sort of child-like romance way. Indeed he was fourteen and she fifteen when they married.
The portrait that had been sent her showed a robust and healthy youth with red hair and even the beginnings of a beard. Though the King and Queen of Spain were loathe to send their youngest daughter to the cold, dreary and uncertain England, Catherine felt her heart give way each time she saw her betrothed's portrait.
When they departed a great storm broke out.
"An ill omen." She jested. And the rest of her Spanish party gave a laugh. It seemed she was always the one who was expected to remain in high spirits.
It was described to her that Prince Arthur pole-vaulted and was well read and in truth, this is what had kept her own spirits alive, imagining their happy life.
When she and her party landed at Dover it was the King's younger son who was waiting with his English Party. And he was just as robust as the portrait of Prince Arthur.
Unfortunately her governess had ill-prepared her English and Catalina, as she was known then, yet could not communicate so easily. But to herself she thought; 'The family must be of healthy stock.'
Her and her Spanish Group would make their way all across England until they had reached London where she would be married. But her new Lord Father had grown impatient and decided to meet her halfway there.
She noticed promptly how much disregard the King had for his younger son.
"Hello Lord Fa..." He began. But the King pushed him out of the way and hastily parted the draping over the tent to confirm the famed beauty Europe spoke of. His eyes showed great admiration as did all the English men's eyes. But his the most. She sank to her knees in a curtsey.

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posted November 06, 2017 04:48 AM            

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She was shocked to see some days later that her betrothed was in fact a very skinny and sickly youth who looked no more then nine. Dark bags beneath his eyes. But his smile was pleasant and he was kindly.
The King looked at him to be the most perfect thing God had ever created, was he deluding himself? Or was he totally unaware that it was a wonder his son had made it this long?
Prince Arthur was tall, but not healthy.
And though, she could not speak English and he could not speak Spanish, they could speak Latin.
"There are no women in your household at Ludlow?" She inquired in the chariot ride to Wales after their wedding.
"No, Father would have no women around me for my upbringing and certainly not now. He thought it would make me soft. But now I have a beautiful Wife to be my woman.
He was kind but seemed...insincere, not on purpose. As if love and marriage were just some rehearsed game and in that moment she came to that conclusion. And also that it seemed all of his emotions and mannerisms were rehearsed. He didn't seem to be his own person at all. Merely what Dukes, Earls and other powerful men had told him he would always become. A King like the King he had been named for. And to marry a beautiful woman as his Queen.
Her new family loved that story, the story of King Arthur and the Round Table. For, indeed England's first Sovereign according to their legend had been Welsh by blood like the Current King.
He read it to her once.
"You see, Catherine, you and I are to be very happy, for I am Welsh like King Arthur and named for him too. It is what God wants."
"But did not Queen Guinevere betray King Arthur?" She asked.
"Well, you'll not betray me. I married Catherine, not Guinevere." And he kissed her in that young rehearsed way.
The first night they lay together he took her in a clumsy way. That did not seem rehearsed, but this was the only time she truly saw uncertainty of what he was on his face. He knew he was a Prince, he knew he would be a King, but he did not know he was a boy, a man, a human.
They laid together as such only seven times.
And when they did not, he slept in his own chambers, separate from her.

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posted November 06, 2017 05:23 AM            

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It had been a year and a half since their daughters had left their house and now Elizabeth and Thomas stood staring at their son who as of yet had not made anything of himself, save the Noble Scoundrel who could get his way in all matters in the town.
Every week it seemed.
"Keep your Garbage-Luther-Mouthed son away from my tavern." Or "I'd just as well my daughter be given a seed from a peasant then a Luther-loving sod."
But the strange thing of it, their son was not hated for the gambling, the whoring, the drinking as would have been expected. And indeed, this was acceptable without consequence in their world. No, it was for Luther. All men went and did what George did and made penance for it at confession the next day. But George would openly get up and declare his apology to the Most High. right after the lay or the gamble.
Some would marvel and eagerly he would explain to them of Luther. And that was it too, so many were not even aware, and often he would be the only person at the whole tavern, brothel, or even street who could read. And due to this, as well as being a minor noble, he felt it his duty to entrust the knowledge he had discovered unto them.
"You need not go to Confession or a Priest openly declare your love for God on the street." At twenty three years old though, he did let it go to his head and became very pompous of it.
Men jumped him in the street, priests glared at him when he passed by churches, and on one or two occasions, he could have sworn a hired assassin was following him. But, if one thing was certain though, it was that George Boleyn, the nephew of the Duke of Norfolk was disturbing the social order, and disturbing it too much.

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posted November 06, 2017 06:08 AM            

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"Go!" He shouted at the top of Hever Castle pelting rocks out of his wavy white sleeves to the intent woman below.
Elizabeth sighed and shook her head. How was it that George to every woman to fall in love with him? Or was the Madame actually after her rightly owed money? Both perhaps.
George had taken up a relationship with the most famous Madame in the town and eldest. A woman of forty eight, she powdered her bosom and face with French Talcum and colored her grey tresses with Spanish Henna.
The woman was older then her for God's sake.
And now they were fighting.
Six months before two men had forced George Boleyn out of his bed in the middle of the night and taken him to her house in the town.
And being that the Countess had less pence then this particular woman, there was nothing to be done.
"You owe me money George Boleyn." She said.
He ogled at her cleavage from out the blue lace.
"I owe you a lick Madam,"
"What?" She laughed as if insulted. George had read on her face in that moment that most of her misery originated from a life of only thinking her looks could get her sway. And what would he do to get out of this? But to take her in the most passionate way she ever had. She was elderly, but she had a **** . And he went for it.
Rather then hit him she exhaled and went along. Never before had a man taken her in this passion, even in youth and George knew what he was doing.
He had long ago mastered the looks of people and to blend himself to what they wanted, as if in seconds, to get his way.
And indeed, what would she have expected them him to grovel at her feet? And in that moment George had made himself appear loving because he knew too that she had never known true love.
And yet that was George Boleyn's problem as well. He could blend himself well, but his might was one to be reckoned with. A boisterous person, women love that as it is, and he could as if by magic change his tones to suit their personalities and demeanors. All men did this for sex, but George truly had a way of it. But, it wasn't only that. George Boleyn had always been able to get into the heads of those around him. And find things in their eyes that they tried desperately to keep hidden. And sometimes like a cat to a mouse, he liked to toy with them.
What had ended up happening is that now the young man had his pick of the brothel, every night a new woman, or four, or five, sometimes at a time. And they had grown envious of their mistress, for, they were all in love with him and he hadn't done it on purpose.
But from all of this Elizabeth and Thomas knew one thing. It was high time that their son shape up, and they set about to betroth him.

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posted November 06, 2017 06:31 AM            

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posted November 06, 2017 07:01 AM            

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Mary had returned to Court. And the child was not spoken of. She looked more like her Mother anyway, so there was no way to tell. Even so, the King and his former Mistress were on good terms with each other.
And in that year there was a play staged by the King at York Place, his Mother's favorite residence as a child.
The Eight Lady's of Virtue, kept captive by the Seven Lady's of Vice and the Eight Lords to rescue them led by the King. The Lady's of Virtue were in white and gold and upon them was stitched in golden thread their particular good deed. Anne was Lady Perseverance. And she did most enjoy the beautiful headdress ordered from Milan.
The King's sister, Mary was Lady Beauty, Joan Parker was Lady Constancy. Anne supposed though that Jane Parker hadn't wanted to be a part of the play though peering at her. The King's elderly Aunt Katherine, the Countess of Devonshire was Lady Honor, and Mary was Lady Kindness, which she supposed did fit. Madge Shelton was Lady Bounty, Elizabeth Brook was Lady Mercy, and Mary Shelton was Lady Pity.
The Lady's of Vice were dressed in black and were made to be Indian women. On their dresses in red thread was sewed: Lady Danger, Lady Disdain, Lady Jealousy, Lady Wickedness, Lady Scorn, Lady Malevolence, and Lady Strangeness.
When entered the Eight Lords of Chivalry in coats of blue and gold. In white thread was embroidered their names; Lord Amorous, Lord Nobleness, Lord Youth, Lord Attendance, Lord Loyalty, Lord Pleasure, Lord Gentleness, and Lord Liberty.
At the head was the King in a coat of crimson and he was named; Ardent.
It was somewhat of an improve towards the end, and the King just had happened to rescue Lady Perseverance.
There was a way he looked at her in that moment and she at him. It seemed a tad bit more then acting. But, Anne supposed he was just good at it.
"I've come to rescue thee Lady Perseverance." He said. They really hadn't spoken since the dinner was the thing. She had her own room but he had most likely forgotten this fact, Mary's favor was so brief.
"And I do accept Lord Ardent." She replied.

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posted November 06, 2017 07:03 AM            

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The Joust after the Pageant was just as good. However, Anne never had liking for sports. She wasn't like others who could sit and watch that sort of thing, so she decided to read.
The erected wooden balcony was covered with russet red and yellow stitching in a pattern and the English Lion adorned the red ones. The strange thing was that the King was nowhere to be found and he loved the jousts. Often coming in first. It was then Anne felt a tap on her shoulder and turning a servant stood there.
"Lady Boleyn the King requests a word with you." She followed him to a tent some distance away from the field and when she had entered there stood the handsome, muscular, tall King affront a table. Two goblets of wine rested upon it as if they had just been poured.
Anne felt herself blush a bit and looked away. He was attractive, very much so, but she knew she was nothing special to him. She knew what his motive was. And the concept behind it. And it hurt her more then anything actually.
"My Lady Anne Boleyn." He smiled at her. And she diverted her gaze half purposely, half accidentally.
"Accept this gift." And from behind his back he pulled a silver chain with a silver ship in the middle of it.
"It would look beautiful upon your fair, long neck."
She stared at it. It was gorgeous, and the detail on the sales was perfect. But, she knew what he was doing. He was a King and he could have any woman he wanted there was no other reason to want her then to have the thrill of one sister and then the other.
"No...Thank you Your Grace...I cannot accept this. I...I am you see in love with someone else..." And she brought Thomas Wyatt to mind, even though she really wasn't in love with him.
The King's eyes showed surprise and then confusion. "Well, he's a lucky man then any man fortunate to win your heart is. I hope he is good to you, better then I could be."
"Thank you Your Grace." She curtsied and left.
After the King had done his joust, he rode out declaring in mock, "She has wounded my heart!" And everyone gave a laugh knowing not what he meant at all.
http://www.theanneboleynfiles.com/1st-march-1522-anne-boleyn-plays-perseverance/

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posted November 06, 2017 07:34 AM            

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No matter what anyone said about King Henry VII, he had always been good to him. And indeed on his deathbed the King looked to Thomas Moore to look after his son, who was 'endowed with neither strength nor wisdom and would most likely make a terrible King without his guidance.' And besides, the young man had come to his Court to educate the King's younger son, and Thomas Moore appreciated his outlook on life. In truth he did not seem a miser to him, rather a man of modest spending and who needed what King's did? Though, mayhap he looked at him as too much of a marvel.
But, King Henry VII truly bore a love for him more then other men.
It had been Thomas Moore who had delivered the eulogy of his Queen. There were only two things King Henry VII paid for in great elaborateness. The Wedding of his elder son, and the Funeral of his Wife. However the latter was well above the former and though Thomas Moore had never known King Edward IV, King Henry VII confided in him that there was nothing his Queen's father had spent as much as him for this funeral. And for that one could argue it was the most splendid spectacle in all of Europe for its time. And even for fear of his Wife to Purgatory, the King went personally out into the streets to pay the lepers, the blind, the lame, and other unfortunates to say prayers for her soul.

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posted November 06, 2017 09:54 PM            

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It was reported throughout the Continent that the King of England had taken the death of his Wife very hard. Even Emperor Maxamillian sent an ambassador as a personal comfort to the miser.
Of course, Prince Henry was not allowed to attend the funeral. And Thomas Moore did try to fight on the boy's behalf, but it was clear that any negative feelings towards his son, or anything for that matter, was increased threefold, and would for the remainder of his life not disappear.
The Queen was thirty eight, and so thirty eight Virgins had been selected to kiss her white marble effigy that surprisingly looked exactly like her face, save more boyish face due to the cheekbones being a bit too high.
And Thomas Moore had composed a poem to transition her soul to death.
Thomas Moore was a lawyer, but was a man of modest means, like his master. And it truly amazed him how grand the funeral was. Even a French Ambassador wrote that he had seen nothing like it in his entire life.
Afterword's the approaching elderly King looked to the young Thomas and uttered;
"She'd an unhappy life, Lord Moore, but I'll give her a happy farewell." And with that the Carriage rolled away back to the Castle. It always touched him and made him think. If one's life cannot be happy, then one must have a happy transition to death.

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posted November 06, 2017 10:37 PM            

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posted November 07, 2017 09:15 AM            

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"You said that for me?" Asked Thomas delighted.
"Yes of course I did. But I don't love you, "I said it because I was nervous and needed a face in my mind, do you understand what I mean?" He did, but at the same time he had never really known love, oh, he'd wrote of it, as all great poets are expected to, but he never knew it and on that day, he was supposing his inspiration was beginning.

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posted November 07, 2017 09:27 AM            

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It wasn't that he was weak willed and could not fight a battle, there simply were not battles presented him to be fought. At thirty two years old, he began to realize that one of the reasons his court was so pleasant and fun, was because his Grandfather had inspired him.
He remembered his mother and his Aunts, how their eyes sparkled when they spoke of their father, but simultaneously it was clear that, that was to be squashed out of them. But how adamant King Henry VII was of the glory of Lancaster and the evil of York. Henry remembered if anyone so much as breathed King Richard's name they knew there was a risk of being executed. And truthfully, no one but the royalty and the nobility closest in kin to the royalty, spoke of it. And as a child, he, Mary, and Margaret often isolated with their mother and her female kin, would listen with curiosity but they tried their hardest to swallow down happy memory's with King Richard when they thought him to be their Dearest Uncle. Although, they were firm that their father be spoken of in high regard.
And from this is where the King learned what was expected of sovereigns. To lead army's and fight. He longed for a great War so that he could prove his might, but why wish for War?
Still, how had his Grandfather won his throne? And how had his own Father won? Through right of conquest, which had not been seen since the days of King Stephen. And at that, King Edward IV was the youngest to ever do so.

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posted November 08, 2017 02:11 PM            

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No woman had ever refused him before. It tossed about in his mind why she had. After all he had spent quite a bit for that necklace to be made, and in a very short amount of time. He was amazed the smith and jeweler had gotten it done so quick. She had been gone since then and he hadn't seen her around Court. Strangely enough, he went to his Wife's Chambers to inquire.
Queen Catherine's smile widened when she saw her husband enter her chambers willingly. They didn't converse this intimate anymore, only at Royal Celebrations and if it came to their daughter.
"Good Day Lord Husband." She grinned.
"Good Day, Lady Wife." They were not rude with each other, and still friendly at this time.
"Catherine, I have come to inquire about the Lady Anne Boleyn." Her look showed confusion for a brief moment but then she perked up.
"Oh, Lady Anne Boleyn, yes she has been for a week now taken to her bed with sickness."
The King's face showed a trace of concern. The day had been cold an blustery and he remembered she hadn't been wearing warm sleeves.
"Well, is there a physician attending to her?" He asked.
"Yes, I've sent for a good Doctor, but she continues to grow worse, I do suppose that I should send her back to her home."
King Henry nodded. "Well, I think that would be well, the Court cannot afford another sweating plague. That is not what she has is it?"
And Catherine shook her head. He knew that his Queen took a genuine concern for the health of her Lady's and he assumed she had visited her already. Which she had.
"I'll have mine own physician see to her." "That would be well." Smiled Catherine. And he turned to leave.
"Henry," she said, his back to her. "I do love you." She waited for his reply, but there was none, only a pause. "Have thee a good day Lady Wife." He replied formally.
He wasn't in love with Catherine anymore. Was it because there had been no sons, her age, or maybe it was deeper then that. Whatever the reason, he would see to it that the Lady Anne Boleyn would get better.
He went to her room. There she lay asleep, and hot.
He placed a hand on her head and it confirmed that she was with bad fever. She was a frail seventeen-year-old, and though her hair was black and skin was olive toned, there was an exotic beauty about her because of it. She truly did look something like a girl from Greece or Rome.
'You will love me yet, Lady Anne.' He thought, and did himself take the wash cloth on the chest beside her bed, soaked it in the bowl, rung it out, and placed it upon her head. She stirred a bit, and he left careful not to wake her. Although, he did flash her a smile before doing so.

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posted November 08, 2017 02:28 PM            

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Anne loved being sick, always had. When she was sick, her family cared about her, her father loved her when she was sick. And now at Hever Castle she peered up at him, sitting over her bed, reading a book on law.
"Your Uncle is coming today," he spoke not peering up.
"Why?" The Duke of Norfolk had never really taken an interest in his sister closest in age, and why would that matter to her in any regard?
"There is something he wishes to speak of with you."
"With me?" And Thomas Boleyn nodded, he still had not met her eyes.
"Father, I...the King does not want me for a mistress if that is what he has heard, the King simply wanted a thrill, you must understand Father, being a man yourself."
"I understand perfectly well," She heard her brother's voice declare, and he was standing in the doorway, leaning against the wall, peeling an orange.
Anne gave a chuckle. Today, he was wearing a black satin shirt whose neck was cut down almost to the beginning of his abdomen and his beard was as trim and nice as always.
"Would you leave..." Spoke Thomas to his son.
"Well, Father, when I see a Powerful Political delve, you know I cannot refuse it."
"Do not mean to talk her out of this." Spoke Thomas plainly. He had never been an animated man, blunt, but without tone.
"Talk me out of what?" Anne asked. Though, she knew, she hadn't expected this dialogue this quick.
"You've not a thing to worry of Father, I mean to talk her into it as best I can."
Thomas shook his head and rose, exiting, he shot his son a look.
"No funny things George."
And the young man gave his father a week.
"Stupid boy..." Muttered Thomas making his way down the hall.
In a sporadic way, George hopped up over to her bed and grabbed a chair bouncing into it as he took a seat, facing forward on the backside of it, his arms resting on the rim.
Anne laughed, he always made her laugh. And he knew that she was only fooling their father, or was he?
"You are going to agree to this you know, these past four days when you've laid in bed past out, the King's personal Physician has attended to you."
"He is only doing this to prove to himself he can win me, he is a vain man George, you know vain men, you yourself are one. He doesn't care for me, he cares for his pride."
And George's smile widened displaying all of his teeth.
"Exactly."
She lifted an eyebrow at her brother.
"Think on it Anne, think on it. Maybe, just maybe since you are no wanton, you can use that intellect to yours, and mine, and who knows, England to your advantage." He parted a strand of hair behind her.
"George, I'll not risk my morality for what you have in mind and do you think your idol would approve of such whorishness?"
"You must sin to eradicate sin, sister." He spoke. "Who knows, maybe England could be the first country in Europe to break from the Church of Rome, Anne.
"That," spoke Anne. "Shall never happen.
He shrugged and continued smiling. The rest of the day was spent conversing of nasty and grueling jokes, but always he tried to get in things she could do to the King. And insulted she would fume at him every time.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=48PJGVf4xqk

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posted November 08, 2017 02:52 PM            

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I decided to name it Narasimha since the fourth incarnation of the God Vishnu in Hinduism is said to have incarnated to destroy religious persecution and destruction. He reminds me a lot of George Boleyn in that regard because Anne Boleyn's brother was probably the number one person behind breaking with the Church of Rome to from the Church of England, where the Protestant Religion originates from. George Boleyn, along with his sister was beheaded. In the Shiva Purana's it is stated that Shiva as Sharabha, beheaded Narasimha when he became to powerful.

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posted November 08, 2017 02:53 PM            

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“Trust in God, and not in the vanities of the world, for if I had so done, I think I had been alive as ye be now.
Men do common and say that I have been a setter-forth of the word of God and one that hath favoured the Gospel of Christ; and because I would not that God’s word should be slandered by me, I say unto you all that if I had followed God’s word in deed as I did read it ans set forth to my power, I had not come to this.
Truly and diligently did I read the gospel of Christ Jesus, but I turned not to profit that which I did read; the which had I done, of a surety I had not fallen into so great errors.
Wherefore I do beseech you all, for the love of our Lord God, that you do at all seasons hold by the truth, and speak it, and embrace it.”

George Boleyn's speech before his execution

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posted November 10, 2017 08:59 PM            

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"Is the Lady Anne Boleyn well?" Inquired the King to his physician.
"Yes, she is making a hasty recovery."
Bishop Fischer was sitting beside the King in his study as well as the Doctor gave the news.
"Good, good. You may leave now." The man bowed and left.
"Now what is this that the Pope would like to ask of me?"
"Your Grace." Began the Bishop. "It would seem the teachings of Luther are...some how spreading into England and indeed it seems those inhabitants our neighbors closest us, Cleves, Denmark, Norway, and Sweeden are taking to his words as gospel, as the way and as the truth. The Pope wants to ask of thee, to prevent Lutherinism from spreading further into the West, to openly band it from England. Anyone who speaks Luther's words should be formally executed."
Truthfully the King didn't care one way or the other of the teachings of Luther, but of course he had heard of it taking hold over the Western half of Europe, particularly the German speaking country's. But, if that is what the Pope wanted, then he would be happy to oblige.
"Yes, yes tell his Holiness that I shall do as he requests."
Bishop Fischer bowed. "Very good, very good Your Grace." And left.
Three weeks later, King Henry VIII was declared by Rome to be the 'Defender of the Faith.'

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posted November 10, 2017 09:00 PM            

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D67kmFzSh_o

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posted November 10, 2017 09:11 PM            

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In the Year of our Lord, 1524 Anne Boleyn was under great scrutiny from her family. The conversation with her Uncle had not gone well.
"Who cares if he wants a thrill!?" The Duke of Norfolk had demanded.
"I will not be subjected to such a disgrace!"
But, even so, the Duke of Norfolk due to the King's love for her was growing swiftly in his power and his money.
Anne was reading when she heard George's voice.
"Keep doing what you're doing." He said.
"And what am I doing? I am merely telling him that I do not love him, he continues to write me and send me gifts." Indeed she had a drawer full of letters, and kept a couple of the gifts, but most of them she had sent back. In ways, she pitied him. He was so desperate for her.
"Anne, I am dying of love for you." One of the letters read. And indeed it had been a year and half since last she had been at Court.
"Sister, men love a chase. The more you do not reply to him, the more he desires you. The more you refuse him, the more he loves you. Do you see?"
"No," she shook her head.
"Men want what they can't have."
"But why?" She demanded.
George shrugged, "Men are competitive I suppose, and in their hearts they believe when they finally do win the woman, it is their feet and their victory."
"That's ridiculous, why chase a woman who does not love you after a year and a half?"
George shrugged again. She stared at him, he was wearing a black cap with a very colorful feather that he had said was acquired from a bird from the New World. His collar was plaid and encrusted with topaz stones. He always had a way of explaining things to her. But this, this she could wrap her mind around in the slightest.
"But what does he like about ME?" She emphasized the last word.
"He likes the way you stand out. Your dancing, your sleeves, in truth, Sister, sending you to France was the best decision our Father ever made. The French Court by accident, Anne, taught you the ways of love." She laughed.
A servant came then.
"Master Boleyn, I am sorry, but I could not find the latest book of Luther's teachings anywhere."
George's feet stomped on the ground, he had been sitting in a chair with his feet on a table and now they were on the floor in frustration.
"Blast it! Why can they be found nowhere now!"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-PmmMG-6mwo

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posted November 11, 2017 04:42 PM            

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"You're going back to Court, you can't stay here." Spoke Elizabeth to her daughter.
"I am not going to be the Mistress to the King." Anne retorted.
"Well, even so, you are winning much favor for the Howard's even so, and thine Uncle says you must."
"This is rightly idiotic." Spoke Anne. "Why does he want me? I have said so many times that I do not love him."
Elizabeth looked at her daughter with an anger in her eyes.
"You're a stupid girl." She spoke shaking her head. "Do you know how many women would kill to be in your position?"
"Then let the King love them and not I."
"You're leaving tomorrow!" Elizabeth declared and stormed out of her bed-chamber.
Anne kicked her bed. Fine, she would return to Court, but she would refuse the King at all costs. She had sworn to herself long ago that she would never be a mistress, and she intended to keep that promise to herself.

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posted November 11, 2017 05:00 PM            

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(Sometimes the Chasers become the Runners to learn Karmic Lessons, so don't be offended)

"Fix your hair!" Elizabeth shouted at her son. He put the feathered mass behind him.
George's parents had arranged a grand match for him, Jane Parker, the heiress to the Viscounty of Rochford. He wasn't happy about the marriage, no less that he had never even met the woman and his parents were driving him mad.
"Shave your beard!" Elizabeth had demanded several weeks before.
"Not the beard." He had been firm and it was quickly forgotten.
He had been dressed in a coat of gold and irvine as he sat in the Great Hall, his brown pantaloons looked rightly stupid. He hated pantaloons, making a man's ass and midriff appear fat. But, it seemed to be the fashion of the modern time.
George preferred to dress himself in robes and breeches, what they wore before King Henry VIII, the dress dark ages so to speak. He hadn't wanted to get married, not yet anyway. And he crossed his arms in a pout as he sat waiting for the bride he had never met.
"It is time George," spoke Thomas to his son. George gave a sigh and stood up.
"Now you have remembered your vows?"
"Yes, yes..."
He stood awaiting her entry.
When she had entered, he saw that she was very beautiful, almost the perfected image of if. Her plumpness was the absolute model of gorgeousness. And her sandy blond tresses flowed straight behind her. But, George was too unhappy that his parents were making him do this to truly take in her comeliness. And years later he would look back and think that his demise had been sewn in that very moment.
The Lady Rochford was wearing a French Hood, encrusted with pearls and her white satin dress flowed out from her curvaceous hips. But her eyes were downcast, and she seemed very nervous. She was a shy woman, George could tell that. And when she had been lead to the Alter, she batted her big blue eyes at him as if she had been expecting something from out of a fairy tale. Well, George was no gallant knight and she had to understand that this marriage was for political gain. He had not any intention of giving up his whoring.
"Vouchsafe this ring to wear?" He asked as if this was something to just be done, and offered her a diamond lined with a golden band.
"I do." She replied.
'Well, good.' George thought and then felt bad, she truly was expecting something he could not give her, a happy love, a happy marriage.

In the bedroom several hours later, the two lay together and customarily he did what is done, consummation, but, there was no feeling on his part. And he dressed himself promptly afterwords.
Jane Parker lay, naked and hurt, she watched him exit.

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From: Hillsboro, OR, USA
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posted November 11, 2017 05:01 PM            

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p3VgV31vmUE

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From: Hillsboro, OR, USA
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posted November 11, 2017 05:20 PM            

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There weren't many who remembered the War around anymore. But, Margaret De La Pole had, the daughter of the of the Duke of Clarence. She didn't remember her father though. He never had interest in his children, and his execution had been to be drown in a Vat of Malmsey Wine. Her Uncle, King Edward IV had let him choose the way he should like to be killed. Although she loved her son very much. Her Reginald. It was always he who traveled to Rome to speak on England's behalf in matters of politics and she was sure, as the King's cousin that it would be her son and not Thomas Wolsey who would be elected as a Cardinal. Oh, she was sure that would not happen. And how had he even been given his status? Oh, Margaret remembered that too.
King Henry VII had been raised a man of humble means and as a result set about reforming the nobility to include minor statuses for butchers, smiths, printers, horse breeders, and all others who lived by their wits. It was an embarrassment, a great embarrassment and Wolsey had been the son of a butcher. Her Reginald came from Royal Stock. For, he was a descendant of Kings, and it was insulting how the King should favor Wolsey above him, and to add insult to injury, he had bee declared the Archbishop of York. York! Her family's house and namesake. Still, Margaret and and King Henry had always gotten on very well. Who but her had kept him company when his Mother died. And he took it very hard as a boy, no less he was not allowed to attend the funeral. And he had broken down to her at the age of thirteen.
"Oh, Hal, her last thoughts were with you, don't you ever forget that." And she hugged him close.
Yes, her Reginald would sit in the Pope's Circle. Not that fat ape.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b1B_pZC8aWU

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From: Hillsboro, OR, USA
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posted November 11, 2017 05:29 PM            

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"You've returned!" Exclaimed Thomas Wyatt when he saw Anne. And ran towards her.
"And so you missed me?" She laughed.
"Of course I did." He had never known love before this woman and he was sure to impress her.
"May is the month, you're birth date approaches." He marveled. "Is there anything I can purchase for thee?" Again she laughed.
"Oh, the King gives me so many things... There is nothing I could ask for." It was the same with Thomas Wyatt, in love with her, and she did not and could not return his feelings.
"Anne, will you marry me?" He asked.
Her face dropped in surprise.
"N...No Thomas Wyatt, I...I..."
"Why not, you do not wish to be with His Grace, and we get on so well Anne, your poetry is a wonder to mine own."
"Because Thomas, I am not in love with you and it would not be fair to thee."
She turned to leave and unfolded her umbrella, it was about to rain.
He stood staring, dumbfounded.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nqkC-k3RoXE

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From: Hillsboro, OR, USA
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posted November 11, 2017 05:47 PM            

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As soon as the King had heard that the Lady Anne Boleyn had returned to Court, he granted the Countess of Wiltshire a generous allowance. And decided that he would go about writing a ballad for her. For, he himself was a writer like her, and this, she would be delighted at it, he was sure.
But, it was then he had remembered how he had courted his Queen many years ago.
He had written her a Ballad as well.
Shortly after his Father's death he had rode out to where the Infanta was being kept.
With his lute, he sang to her as she watched from her balcony, so hypnotized and delighted.

'Green Groweth the Holly,
So doth Ivy,

As the Holly groweth green
and never changeth hue
So I am , and ever hath been
Unto my Lady True.'

Sometimes he looked back on their once beautiful love with longing, but, though Catherine was a good woman, she was not a woman who was easily given to presenting herself as attractive to him, and with no sons...Was it his curse? Was it because he had taken his brother's widow as his bride? Once his father had destined him for the church, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and he remembered the passage in Leviticus.
"If a man taketh his brother's Wife, the two shall be childless." They had Mary and she was a charming little girl, but, she was not a boy and the English would not accept a Queen Regent, the reason being the hell Empress Matilda had brought the land almost four hundred years before. Women did not work as sovereigns, it just was the way of things. But, he and Catherine loved her dearly.
He had decided to visit her chambers that day.
And as he entered her chambers, he was surprised to see her spirits high. She went to him in an embrace and he accepted it, though in an awkward manner.
"Husband," she spoke. "There has been a bid for our daughter's hand."
"And who is that?" He asked.
"My nephew! King Charles of Spain! Oh, husband, our daughter shall take her place as a Great Queen, just as my mother. Our daughter shall be the Queen of Spain and of England!"
The King's smile widened and he kissed his Wife for the first time in a long time. This was an honor because his some day Princess Mary would bare a Grandson who would be sovereign of two country's. Spain and England together, powerful, mighty. That night he took his Queen and momentarily forgot all about the Lady Boleyn.

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