Thine luminescent drama
Thine luminescent drama
Today, April 21 is “National Tea Day” in the UK. It also happens to be the 92nd birthday of Queen Elizabeth II. It seems a day could not be more authentically British. In honor of this I am wishing all my friends in the UK (and tea drinkers everywhere) a Happy National Tea Day!
No tea celebration would be complete without stopping by what is perhaps the most famous tea drinking occasion in history – Alice’s Mad Tea Party.
After chasing the White Rabbit down his hole, Alice encounters the Cheshire Cat, who tells her she will definitely be meeting up with mad people. It’s unavoidable. ( “We’re all mad here,” the Cat assures Alice. “I’m mad, you’re mad.”) Alice asks the Cat how he knows she is mad. “You must be,” he replies, “Or you would not have come here.”
Alice then wanders upon a tea table in the middle of the forest.
There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it: a Dormouse was sitting between them, fast asleep, and the other two were using it as a cushion, resting their elbows on it, and talking over its head. `Very uncomfortable for the Dormouse,’ thought Alice; `only, as it’s asleep, I suppose it doesn’t mind.’
*** We know right away there is going to be trouble. The March Hare is a wild animal, known for his crazy antics during mating season. The sleeping Dormouse seems pretty benign, but watch out for the Hatter, as they were known at the time to have some mental deficiencies due to mercury exposure involved in the process of making hats.
The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at one corner of it: `No room! No room!’ they cried out when they saw Alice coming. `There’s plenty of room!’ said Alice indignantly, and she sat down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table.
`Have some wine,’ the March Hare said in an encouraging tone.
Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. `I don’t see any wine,’ she remarked.
`There isn’t any,’ said the March Hare.
`Then it wasn’t very civil of you to offer it,’ said Alice angrily.
*** Alice is only seven years old. Good thing the Hare did not actually have any wine to offer her. Today he might be arrested for child endangerment.
The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he said was, `Why is a raven like a writing-desk?’
*** Again, the mercury exposed Hatter is known to be wacky.
`Come, we shall have some fun now!’ thought Alice. `I’m glad they’ve begun asking riddles.–I believe I can guess that,’ she added aloud.
`Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?’ said the March Hare.
`Exactly so,’ said Alice.
`Then you should say what you mean,’ the March Hare went on.
`I do,’ Alice hastily replied; `at least–at least I mean what I say–that’s the same thing, you know.’
`Not the same thing a bit!’ said the Hatter. `You might just as well say that “I see what I eat” is the same thing as “I eat what I see”!’
`You might just as well say,’ added the March Hare, `that “I like what I get” is the same thing as “I get what I like”!’
*** The study of “meaning what you say” and “saying what you mean” is an interesting one. Carroll shows us how just a few words of juxtaposition can give a completely different meaning. Try it yourself, just for fun! “I know who I am — I am who I know? I believe what I see — I see what I believe? We are what we eat — we eat what we are?” Yes, it should drive you a bit mad 🙂
`Have you guessed the riddle yet?’ the Hatter said, turning to Alice again.
`No, I give it up,’ Alice replied: `what’s the answer?’
`I haven’t the slightest idea,’ said the Hatter.
`Nor I,’ said the March Hare.
*** The riddle is never actually solved, but I heard a possible answer: Why is a raven like a writing desk? Because Poe wrote on both.
What follows is a discussion of time in which the Alice states she must beat time in order to learn music. The Hatter insists that time is a ‘he’ not an ‘it’. Furthermore: ‘He won’t stand beating. Now, if you only kept on good terms with him, he’d do almost anything you liked with the clock. For instance, suppose it were nine o’clock in the morning, just time to begin lessons: you’d only have to whisper a hint to Time, and round goes the clock in a twinkling! Half-past one, time for dinner!’
Finally Alice can take it no longer. She gets up and leaves.
`At any rate I’ll never go there again!’ said Alice as she picked her way through the wood. `It’s the stupidest tea-party I ever was at in all my life!’
Contrary to Alice’s belief (and providing we don’t dine with Hatters) more tea drinking would probably be good for us. Tea is full of anti-oxidants and is known to boost our immune systems. According to sage wisdom, tea with honey is great for soothing sore throats. Besides that, many cultures celebrate tea drinking with particular rituals and ceremonies.
A tea ceremony is like a meditation — time set aside for rest and contemplation. In fact, tea drinking could probably bring about more civility, peace and sanity for us all.
Whatever you do today, take some time out to enjoy a nice cup of tea 🙂
Queen Elizabeth I of England died on this day, March 24, 1603. She had reigned for 44 years, one of the longest reigns in the history of English monarchs. She was the second female to ever take the throne in England, the first being her sister Mary who ruled for only five years.
Bess was born on September 7, 1533 — thus making her nearly 70 years old at the time of her death. This was REALLY OLD by Elizabethan standards, a time when plague and disease ran rampant, not to mention poor nutrition, excessive labor, wars and general hardships. The average person only lived to be about 38 years old. Monarchs, of course, had access to the best lifestyles and health care.
Bess’ death was caused by a combination of things.
Having survived a bout with smallpox in 1562 which had left her skin very scarred, the Queen took to using a cosmetic covering which was made of eggshells and lead. (Yes LEAD!) This could not have been healthy! This concoction lent to the appearance of her unnaturally white skin, considered fashionable at the time.
But what were the long term effects of these applications? Symptoms of lead poisoning include abdominal pain, headaches, irritability, memory problems and inability to have children. (Hardly worth the fashion statement!)
Also, Bess’ teeth, by all accounts, were rotten. King Henry IV of France, after having audience with her, reported: “her teeth are very yellow and unequal … and on the left side less than on the right. Many of them are missing, so that one cannot understand her easily when she speaks quickly.”
While we now know that dental health greatly aids in preventing disease, this was not the case in Tudor England. Bess, along with her father Henry, enjoyed excessive sweets. Bess, however, did not reach Henry’s status of obesity.
The French King also said of Elizabeth: “her figure is fair and tall and graceful in whatever she does; so far as may be she keeps her dignity, yet humbly and graciously withal.”
Nonetheless, no one can escape Father Time, and by 1602 the Grim Reaper was on his way.
In the winter of 1602 Bess had caught a chill after walking out in the cold air. She complained of a sore throat as well as aches and pains. She retired to rest in her private apartments, but would not go to bed, staying awake for days on end. Elizabeth knew she was not well, yet she refused to see her doctors. When her chief adviser Robert Cecil told her that she must go to bed, she snapped “Must is not a word to use to princes, little man!”
Some of her contemporaries believed she could have recovered had she been willing to fight off her illness. Elizabeth, however, seemed to have a death wish.
For a number of years the Queen had been suffering from some form of of mental instability and depression. This was apparently caused by the stresses of the monarchy and the many fickle decisions she had made, which toyed with people’s lives. (And perhaps it could have been the LEAD…) In the course of her reign Bess had been responsible for several deaths which left her guilt ridden and paranoid. The most noteworthy of these was the beheading of her cousin, Mary, Queen of Scots, whom she had executed after the Scottish Queen was caught in a plot to overthrow Bess.
Another death that agonized her was that of Robert Devereaux, Earl of Essex, who had once been ELizabeth’s favorite courtier.
In 1601 Essex lost his head after he tried to raise a London rebellion against the Queen. Although she had ordered the execution, it was reported that afterward Bess was known “to sit in the dark, and sometimes with shedding tears to bewail Essex.”
To make matters worse, as often happens in old age, Bess had lost, and greatly missed, a number of her dearest friends. She never overcame the untimely death of her one true love, Sir Robert Dudley (also stepfather of Essex) whom she had decided not to marry.
Her closest adviser and father-figure, William Cecil, Lord Burghley (whom she had dismissed from office after the agonized decision of beheading Mary Queen of Scots) had now passed away as well.
Elizabeth was no fool. She knew her popularity could not last forever, and she had always depended upon the love of her people. An aged and feeble queen could not hold the hearts of England’s youth. A new day was dawning with the discoveries in the New World, as well as expanding trade and commerce. The country was looking for young, fresh leadership.
As Elizabeth’s condition deteriorated, her favorite clergyman, the Archbishop Whitgift of Canterbury was called to her side. Whitgift reported that the Queen was at this point unable to speak, but she held onto his hand. The Archbishop tried to encourage her with words of recovery, but she made no response. However, when he spoke to her of the joys of Heaven, she squeezed his hand, as if in anticipation of the after life. By this time it was clear to all of those around that Elizabeth was dying.
There was, of course, the question of Succession. As the famous Virgin Queen, Bess had never married and bore no children. There were several descendants of the York and Lancaster bloodlines who had potential claim the the throne. The most likely of these was Elizabeth’s cousin, King James of Scotland who was favored by her Privy Council. The question was once again put to the Queen on her deathbed. The Privy Council urged her to sign the succession document. She did not.
Elizabeth took her last breaths in the wee hours of the morning, March 24, 1603. John Manningham, an Elizabethan lawyer and diarist, wrote: “This morning, about three o’clock her Majesty departed from this life, mildly like a lamb, easily like a ripe apple from a tree…”
For the sake of the peaceful transition of power, it was later announced that Elizabeth had gestured in agreement for James to succeed her. Chief adviser Robert Cecil then took it upon himself to make arrangements for the transition.
During her reign, Queen Bess’ accomplishments were many. She defeated the Spanish Armada, protected the realm against a number of foreign entities, brought peace to her previously divided country and restored the prosperity that her father Henry had depleted. She also created an environment where the arts flourished, including drama which elevated Shakespeare to superstar status.
She was called Gloriana, The Faerie Queen, The Virgin Queen and Good Queen Bess. To this day, the time of her monarchy is considered a Golden Age of Great Britain.
She once said: “To be a king and wear a crown, is a thing more glorious to them that see it, than it is pleasant to them that bear it.”
Elizabeth of York (known in some circles as the White Princess) was technically the very first queen of the infamous Tudor dynasty. She was born on this day, February 11, 1466, and, ironically, also died on this day, February 11, 1503.
Young Elizabeth had a lot going for her. Besides the royal bloodline, she was, by all accounts, beautiful, intelligent, kind, empathetic and well mannered.
She was the oldest daughter of King Edward of York and his wife Elizabeth Woodville. Elizabeth’s father had come to power after many hard fought battles with his cousins the Lancasters. Edward’s reign issued in a period of peace and prosperity. When he died unexpectedly in 1483, a new game of thrones would ensue, complete with evil plots and bloody battles as the Lancasters and Yorks once again strove for power.
Elizabeth was only seventeen when her father died. Her younger brother Edward, just thirteen, then became king. However, their Uncle Richard (Richard III) exercised his power as Lord Protector of the Realm and had Edward and his younger brother Richard (second heir) put away in the Tower of London for “safe keeping”. What happened to the two York princes remains a mystery to this day. Neither boy was ever heard from again. It is commonly thought that Richard had them murdered.
In 1674, workmen at the Tower discovered a box containing two small skeletons. Those are thought to be the bones of the princes.
Richard then took the throne for himself. He did not keep it for long. Henry Tudor, a Welshman from a royal but illegitimate bloodline, also had kingly ambitions. He waged war. Richard III was defeated and lost his life at the Battle of Bosworth in 1485.
Henry Tudor then became King Henry VII. He knew it would be prudent to unite his house with York and asked for Elizabeth’s hand in marriage. Young Elizabeth then found herself in the rather awkward position of being a York heir, yet pulled into the Lancaster-Tudor stronghold, most likely against her own will.
The marriage, however, proved to be a happy one.
Elizabeth gave birth to eight children. The most notorious of these was of course King Henry VIII. He continued the dynasty and also fathered a rather strong tempered little girl, also named Elizabeth, who would never marry, but would come to rule England for almost fifty years.
You guessed it! Bess the Virgin Queen was Elizabeth’s granddaughter.
Elizabeth of York was a hands-on mother, unusual at the time for women of her status. She insisted upon having much domestic time with her children and often brought them to her palace at Eltham. Although she left behind a great legacy, Elizabeth of York only lived to be thirty seven years old. She died of an infection on Feb. 11, 1503, just days after giving birth to her last daughter Katherine. The baby died too.
In 2012, the Vaux Passional, an illuminated manuscript that was once the property of Henry VII, was rediscovered in the National Library of Wales. This manuscript gives us insight into the strong bonds between Elizabeth and her family. It depicts Elizabeth’s death, with a saddened Henry VII in mourning garments. In the background, an 11-year-old King Henry VIII’s red head is shown weeping into the sheets of his mother’s empty bed. His two sisters wear black mourning veils.
Happy Birthday Elizabeth!
If you read my blog regularly you already know about my big obsession with Queen Elizabeth I. Born on this day, September 7, 1533, she was one of England’s greatest monarchs, successfully ruling for forty five years.
Bess, however, started out as an unlikely candidate for the throne. She was the daughter of King Henry VIII and Queen Anne Boleyn. With a shaky upbringing that included her dad Henry beheading her mother Anne when Elizabeth was just three years old, the girl went in and out of favor with the King. Her title changed often. The precocious child was aware of this, often questioning her caretakers:
“For why yesterday I was the Princess Elizabeth and today only Lady?”
When Henry died, Bess was third in line for the crown. Her brother Edward became king at the tender age of nine and ruled until his untimely death just six years later. Her older sister Mary then reigned for five years. Mary, a devout Catholic, was often at odds with Elizabeth, a staunch Protestant. When Mary died in 1558, Bess finally took the throne.
The new queen was twenty five years old, highly intelligent, tall, red haired, lovely and possessing much of her father’s strong will. Her status (bastard or not a bastard?) was still considered questionable. Nonetheless, Bess became a much beloved monarch.
Elizabeth served time in the Tower of London, arrested for treason after she was wrongly accused of plotting to overthrow her sister Mary. It was, ironically, Phillip of Spain, Mary’s husband, who pled for Elizabeth’s release. His intentions were not entirely noble, as he knew his own wife was sickly and he planned to gain favor with Bess and wed her after Mary’s inevitable death. Needless to say, Bess refused him.
Her nicknames were Gloriana, Good Queen Bess and The Virgin Queen.
The Virgin Queen was also an astrological Virgo! She had many typical characteristics of the sign — pragmatism, good money management, discretion and concern for others.
Although most historians agree that Bess actually was a virgin, she had a long romantic involvement with her courtier and horse master Robert Dudley. This caused rumors and gossip. However, although there was great anticipation for her to be wed, Bess never married and produced no heirs. (At least not any legitimate heirs that we know about.)
The whiteness of her skin, as it appears in many portraits, was achieved through a makeup combination of eggshells and lead. (Yes lead! Its effects were apparently unknown at the time.)
She spoke Latin, French, German and Spanish.
She loved sweets. One of her favorite foods was sugar coated violets. Her dental health suffered because of this and Bess eventually had a mouth full of rotten teeth.
Regarding her so-called marriage plans, Bess was a master at bait and switch. She would often ‘consider’ marriage proposals, but only to gain political favor with a particular country. Once peace was established, she would send suitors on their merry way.
Bess often claimed she was ‘married to England’. She proved this to be true in her political actions. She once even tried to arrange a marriage between her cousin Mary Queen of Scots and her own love interest Robert Dudley — because she wanted Dudley to serve as a spy and keep track of the Scottish queen’s activities.
This suggestion caused the insulted Dudley to leave court in a huff. He then married Lettice Knollys, Bess’ lady in waiting, and did not speak to Bess for years.
What exactly was Queen Elizabeth’s aversion to marriage? Consider the circumstances. Her own father beheaded not only her mother, but also her cousin (Catherine Howard, Henry’s fifth wife) and several other kinsmen. Her relationship with Dudley was wrought with scandal and threats to her power. Sleazy Phillip of Spain tried to worm his way into her affections for political gain. My guess, she only ever equated marriage with danger. She saw it as an institution that threatened her realm and her life.
Bess was a lover of plays and supported Shakespearean drama. She herself was a musician, accomplished at the lute and virginals.
She, along with her secretary Sir Francis Walsingham, created the most notorious spy operation of Renaissance England. Walsingham undermined several plots to overthrow Elizabeth, including a Catholic scheme involving Mary Queen of Scots. Bess’ network of spies, which included Christopher Marlowe, often were turn coats — former Catholics who switched sides but remained savvy to Catholic networks and thus reported plans to Walsingham.
Bess was such a good spymaster, she even wore dresses to advertise the fact! Note this famous portrait:
Upon closer examination, we see that the detail of the fabric is decorated with tiny ears and eyes! This was to send the symbolic message: “I see and hear you” and more importantly “Don’t betray me.”
She never quite gave up her obsession for Robert Dudley. After her death, a letter was found among her most private belongings, hand written by Robert, with a note from Bess labeling it his last letter to her. She is said to have called out his name on her deathbed.
Elizabeth is still considered one of England’s best monarchs. Her great accomplishments include defeating the Spanish Armada, restoring prosperity to the realm and keeping relative peace in the country despite great religious divides. She died in 1603 of natural causes.
Elizabeth I has been portrayed by some of the world’s finest actresses, including Flora Robson, Bette Davis, Vanessa Redgrave, Glenda Jackson, Cate Blanchett, Judi Dench, Helen Mirren, and Anne-Mare Duff. This fun montage gives a sampling, hope you like it!
Happy Birthday Bess!
On May 19, 1536, Anne Boleyn, Queen of England and second wife of King Henry VIII, was executed by beheading, after being held prisoner in the Tower of London for four days and declared guilty of high treason. The formal charges against her were adultery, incest and plotting to kill the king. (Most historians agree these were bogus accusations.) However, Anne’s actual crime was miscarrying two babies and not being able to provide a male heir to succeed King Henry.
As we know, Anne had given birth to a daughter named Elizabeth who later became queen, one of the strongest monarchs ever to rule Great Britain. King Henry, of course, would never live to see this. Henry, in his quest to bear legitimate male heirs, notoriously married six times, broke with the Catholic Church and changed the trajectory of Great Britain’s future. He divorced two of his wives (Catherine of Argon and Anne of Cleves) and sent another two to the block — Anne Boleyn and her cousin Katherine Howard. All of these woman had committed the crime of not bearing a son.
Why all the fuss over a male heir?
Apparently, the laws had strictly adhered to a thing called ‘male preference primogeniture’ which meant, in essence, boys came first. Girls became rulers only if there were no available boys to take over.
Females had a slim right to the throne, but it was complicated: “Male-preference primogeniture accords succession to the throne to a female member of a dynasty if she has no living brothers and no deceased brothers who left surviving legitimate descendants. A dynast’s sons and their lines of descent all come before that dynast’s daughters and their lines. Older sons and their lines come before younger sons and their lines. Older daughters and their lines come before younger daughters and their lines.” — Wikipedia
This archaic practice was in effect for over 900 years. It began with the Norman Conquest and stayed strong all the way up to 2011 (yes, 2011!) when sixteen Commonwealth leaders finally agreed to change the succession laws. In 2013 a formal a act of parliament changed the established ‘male preference primogeniture’ to ‘absolute primogeniture’, thus allowing female babies an equal part in the royal heritage .
Great Britain, what took you so long?
If only they had been so enlightened 500 years earlier! They would have put an end to Henry’s worries, saved Anne’s head and certainly given Elizabeth a much easier reign…
As it turned out, Anne’s daughter ruled England for over forty years. She defeated the Spanish Armada, stabilized religion, avoided a lot of unnecessary wars and brought peace and prosperity to the land.
She was known as ‘Gloriana’ and ‘Good Queen Bess’.
Here is an interesting documentary about Anne’s execution. (Running time about 30 minutes.) Hope you get a chance to watch!
To say the King fancied me is an understatement. To say he loved or adored me is misleading as well. In truth, King Henry the Eighth was obsessed with me. Obsessed in a way most would consider quite unnatural. This of course was no fault of his own. He was but human. Yet his obsession would lead to the transformation of an entire empire.
It is true I was beheaded. But my kind never dies. We dwell in the weft and weave of all we once were. I am in the creaks of staircases, the plaster of palace walls, the jewels of the crown. My tale, albeit tragic, is one of pride and power.
My influence remains, even to this day. But I will start at the beginning.
Everything about King Henry was exciting. He was a man of risk and bold adventure. His palace was magnificent; floors of dark oak, velvet draperies and crystal chandeliers. He wore robes of sable, chains of gold, ruby rings. I was no stranger to luxury, having lived a good deal of my life in the French court where I served as a handmaiden to the Queen Mary and Princess Claude. When I came to Henry’s palace I determined I’d have the finery of a queen, for nothing else would do.
In my French education I had learned courtly ways, the manners and expectations of the high born. I knew, only too well, the fate of girls who gave favors to a king. Once bedded, never wedded. I liked to say that as a joke though it was not really funny. Such had been the fate of my sister Mary, a concubine, once mistress to the King, but later tossed aside with a bastard in her womb. Mary Boleyn is remembered as nothing more than a whore. I vowed such would never happen to me!
And so it was, when King Henry took a liking to me, I determined I would have no intimacy with him until he’d wed me in a proper church. In his lust Henry pursued me and I teased him. Oh how I teased him! For I knew the truth; a woman’s tease is the most powerful thing in all of this world.
One small problem was, of course, that Henry was already married. His first wife, Queen Catherine of Aragon, refused to grant him a divorce. Indeed, the Pope himself refused to grant Henry a divorce! And so Henry, after much distress and mounting desire for me, decided to finally break from the Church of Rome.
“Damn the Pope, damn them all,” he declared. “I will have you, Anne Boleyn! I will have you, even if I must create my own church in order to do so!”
And that was exactly what Henry did; he created his own religion, declared himself divorced from Catherine and became the sole ruler of both church and state. All this was, of course, the result of my masterful seduction.
We were wed far away from the palace at the white cliffs of Dover. After that, and only after that, did I agree to share Henry’s bed. It was then also that he noticed my sixth finger, the tiny web of flesh that grew from my hand.
I was an expert at hiding it, wearing long sleeves that slipped far past my wrists. It was an unsightly thing but it was my branding. It spoke of my true identity. Times being what they were, executions rampant, we witches lived in the shadows.
King Henry, however, was infatuated and made no matter of my finger. To him it was a mere peculiarity, a fetish. He invented ways to incorporate it in our sex play and I daresay it pleased him immensely.
Soon, much to Henry’s delight, I fell pregnant.
More than anything in the world, Henry wanted a son. A legitimate male child could be the only proper heir to the throne of England. So said the law. In his hope and anxiety Henry convinced himself that our child was a boy. And so, when my daughter, the red haired Elizabeth arrived in this world, wailing with a voice as big as the sea, Henry was mortified.
“The next child shall be male,” he said crisply. This even before he first held Elizabeth in his arms.
The next child. Ha! Little did my husband know, there would be no next child! I’d make sure of it. What followed were a series of miscarriages and stillbirths. With each one Henry despised me more.
A son. Oh, I could very well have given Henry a son! It took no more than a poultice of rooster’s blood placed under a man’s pillow for seven nights in a row. (After which he must be fed snake meat, precisely seven hours before the act of intercourse. Any proper witch knew this!) It was a simple spell. My own mother had used it to conceive my brother George. It worked without fail.
Why did I not use it, you ask? Why not indeed? I had the future of England in my very hands! But you see, that was precisely my reason; the future of England.
Three years passed and I bore no more children. It was then that Henry decided he’d need a new wife. He set his sights upon the Lady Jane Seymour. She was a mousy little thing, hardly a comparison to the likes of me. But my fate was already cast and I knew Jane would be Henry’s next wife.
There were many in the palace who turned against me. Many who spread lies and rumors. By then all knew of my sixth finger. They accused me of witchcraft, saying I had charmed the King into our very marriage.
It was true, of course, that I was a witch. That much I could not help, being born into the line of Howard on my mother’s side. Every female of the Howard line inherited some measure of the witch blood. I had been graced with plenty. My daughter Elizabeth had even more! For this reason I knew she must be queen. She would command the winds and the seas. With her psychic powers and gift of sight she would become the best spy in all the world. Elizabeth would use her power for goodness and treachery alike, for all is fair in love and war.
Once I had birthed Elizabeth nothing else mattered. In fact, I would have been quite content to age gracefully, take my place as consort, outlive my husband and watch my daughter rule gallantly.
But no. Henry would not have it.
He needed a reason to execute me and having nothing better to accuse me of, he chose adultery. For my part, I had always been faithful. And yet, Mark Smeaton, my court musician was accused of bedding me. This was quite outrageous! Master Smeaton was a lover of men, he cared only for men, that was plain as the day is long. He had not an inkling of interest in my flesh nor that of any woman. Despite this he was my good friend, keen to serenade me, frequently relaying the gossip of the palace. Such brought his downfall.
Another accused was my brother George. My own brother! Although I had lived at French court and I will admit to many peculiar tastes in the bed chamber — incest was certainly not among them! George was horrified.
Under the King’s law Mark and George were tortured, and torture back then was quite gruesome. The rack, thumbscrews, the iron maiden and strappado. The twisting and popping of fingers, pricking of blades, arms dislodged from sockets. Stretching of flesh till torsos were disfigured beyond recognition. Blood poured and wails of pain resounded until finally Mark and George confessed to vile acts they had never committed.
And me? My fate was to be the executioner’s block.
My husband, in his grudging mercy, had been kind enough to bring a skilled executioner from France; one so swift with a sword that my head would be gone before I realized he had sliced me. My death, however, would not be a true death. I knew this and made a joke of it till the very end.
Years later, when my daughter Elizabeth finally took her rightful place on the throne, she employed a magi by the name of Master John Dee.
This was much to my delight, for Master Dee, being skilled in all manner of conjuring and summoning, was one of the rare beings who could contact my spirit and allow my return to the earthly plane. And so it was I reunited with my Elizabeth! I appeared to her in the flesh, for the crossing of dimensions is quite easy if one has a proper conjurer. (The afterlife is not so very different from this life as humans know it; although it is a good deal easier and far more fun. )
Elizabeth had also employed a privy council, a collection of old gentleman, gray haired and sensible. From these she ostensibly took direction. Yet it was I who truly advised her.
It was I who told Elizabeth never to marry. A husband, I cautioned, would take all her power. And most likely her head as well! (You see I am quite the jester. Perhaps I missed my calling in life.) But in seriousness, Elizabeth would have no man to command her! And if any questioned this decision, she would merely claim she was ‘wed to England’. That silenced their criticisms.
It was I who advised Elizabeth on war and peace, economics and all matters of state. My daughter served a reign of over forty five years. During that time she brought England to glory, winning wars, sustaining a solvent treasury and establishing the strongest navy in all the world.
My only regret was that Elizabeth had birthed no legitimate heir. There had been babies born to her, oh yes! Boys and girls alike, delivered in secret, hidden by midwives. My daughter was a woman of passion. No virgin she, despite what historians claim. The Howard line was kept alive by Elizabeth! But upon her death the crown had no recognized successor. Elizabeth’s council decided upon James of Scotland. For my part I had no say in it.
Alas, James was a poor ruler, no friend of the people, certainly no diplomat. To make matters worse, James had put more witches to death than any other monarch in the history of Great Britain!
His line obviously could not be permitted to last! And so it was I cast a spell, and James’ sons were usurped from the throne. England was thrown into civil war. All this could have easily been avoided if only they had left a witch in charge! Foolish men.
Yet our power would be restored.
In the twentieth century, another great female would come to power. This woman would be descended through the line of Howard. (Leave the blood work and DNA to a genealogist. It is complicated! Suffice it to say, this is true and none should challenge me on this fact! )
This new queen would also serve a term of over forty five years. By the end of her reign England would once again be restored to peace and prosperity.
This new monarch would be called Elizabeth.
This post is in response to the Daily Prompt Obsessed