Three Sisters, Three Queens

HOLYROODHOUSE PALACE, EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND, AUTUMN, 1512

I am too ill for a great celebration of our son and heir. In any case, James is desperately trying to keep the peace between the kings of Christendom who have all forgotten their duty to God. It is impossible for him to call the monarchs of Europe to a crusade if they insist on quarreling among themselves. The worst offender, obviously, is Katherine of Aragon’s father, Ferdinand.

I write to Katherine, as a sister and a sister-queen, asking her to influence Henry for peace. It is not easy for me to write her a long letter in my own hand as I am with child again and terribly tired this time. The baby sits heavily and low and I suffer from aches in my back and shooting pains in my belly. But James insists that I appeal to Katherine, telling me that we have to persuade my brother and his wife not to destroy the peace of Christendom, that Harry should be going to the Holy Land with James and not invading France with Ferdinand. “Tell her that I am afraid of sin,” he urges me. “Tell her everything. Tell her you are with child again and that I have to go on crusade to fulfill my promise, to keep you safe.”

Nobody cares for peace as my husband does. Nobody else has his driving desire to go on crusade. The sorrowful thing is that he cannot even tell them why he wants to go on crusade so badly. He cannot trust his brother kings with the story of his sin, or his fears of a curse on the Tudors.

When I lose my baby, a little girl who comes before her time in November too small to live, I share his urgency. He is right, I know it. I am convinced that there is sin to be expiated and none of us—not me, nor Katherine, nor even my little sister Mary—will be able to feel safe in the future of our children until Jerusalem is back in Christian hands, the curse is lifted from the Tudor line, and James is forgiven his sins.