“My desire was for my crown to pass to my cousin’s male heirs,” Edward explained. “Naturally. Of course I couldn’t have considered Jane a queen on her own merits.”
Oh, she was going to stab him in his sleep. At least she was being mercifully silent. For now. Edward cleared his throat. “But unfortunately, I became ill so quickly that there simply wasn’t time for Jane to produce a male heir. And in the absence of a boy to inherit the throne, Dudley persuaded me to amend the line of succession to name Jane as the ruler, to be followed by her sons, of course. A decision I regret, but there wasn’t much of a choice at that point.”
“Hmm. Well, it doesn’t matter,” King Henry said thoughtfully. “If they’d succeeded in poisoning you without such an amendment, Mary would still be sitting on your throne now, wouldn’t she?”
“Correct.” Edward raised his hands, palms up, like, What’s a fellow to do?
“And so you are here, asking for my help,” King Henry said, a gleam in his eyes as if Edward were kneeling before him in supplication.
Edward was not going to do any kneeling, of course. He straightened his shoulders. “Mary cannot be allowed to get away with such treason,” he said, meeting the king eye to eye. “I have some ships and armies of my own, of course, but Mary needs her comeuppance. I thought it would please you, perhaps, to stand with me on this matter. We could send a different message to the world: that a king will not be cowed by some conniving, middle-aged female suffering from delusions of grandeur. We are men. We are kings. We will not yield on such matters.”
Queen Catherine was shooting daggers at him with her eyes, but he forced himself to concentrate on the French king.
And the king was feeling generous.
“Very well,” Henry said after a long, dramatic pause. “You shall have French ships at your disposal, and you shall have French soldiers, as well, as many as I can spare. Get rid of that ridiculous cow who dares to call herself a queen.”
It took an effort for Edward not to sway on his feet, so great was the relief he felt in this moment. “I will,” he promised. “You have my thanks.”
“And I will expect that in the future, our countries will be better friends,” the king said.
He was indebting himself to France, Edward knew. The man would have more than just his thanks. But that was the price of his crown. He must be willing to pay it.
“Undoubtedly,” he said.
“And if I may give you some advice,” King Henry added. “From one king to another.”
“Of course. I’d be thankful for any wisdom you could offer me.”
“The thing for you do, young man, is to find yourself a wife. As soon as possible, I should think. Produce a son of your own. I have three sons, myself, and a number of bastards. It’s very comforting for me to know that I will find never myself in your predicament. My bloodline is secure. You should see to yours.”
Edward tried to thaw himself quickly, because at the word wife, his chest seemed to have frozen over. He couldn’t get proper air in his lungs.
A wife.
King Henry was right.
Edward could marry. He would have to marry. And soon.
“A wise prescription,” he managed to get out. “Again, I thank you.”
“Perhaps you will consider my daughter, Elisabeth,” Henry said, and Queen Catherine roughly pushed a young girl forward. The girl had been dressed extravagantly in an attempt to disguise the fact that she was quite plain. She curtseyed deeply before him.
“Uh . . . yes, I shall consider her,” he said. “Mademoiselle.”
“Votre Altesse.” (Which means, for those of you who don’t speak French, Your Highness.) The little princess didn’t meet his eyes.
He was in a bit of daze as he took his leave. He had not been considering all that was going to be expected from him, if indeed he took back his throne.
He had forgotten that, as the ruler of England, he would never truly be free.
King Henry held a celebration that night in Edward’s honor, so of course Edward had to attend, even though he would have liked to have spent some time alone to sort out his thoughts. This discussion of women and their merit had left him confused about how he actually felt on the subject. He wished that Jane was there to talk to (and possibly apologize to, but why would he need to apologize? He’d only said what Bess had told him to say, and besides, it was true, wasn’t it? Women were the weaker sex, were they not? Wasn’t that even written in the Holy Book?). But Jane was in her ferret state now. Gifford hadn’t made an appearance. Bess had returned to her chamber to strategize their next move. And he hadn’t seen Gracie since before he’d spoken with the king.
He wandered among the music and dancing and fancy French pastries. All this was a blatant over-expenditure of the French king’s wealth, it seemed to Edward. The Louvre Palace was huge, easily three times the size of Edward’s largest palace, and lavishly furnished. Under normal circumstances it would have given Edward a serious case of palace envy, but now he found the entire building rather vulgar.