immediately. Catherine never asked twice. âFrom the look on your face and the creases in your attire, I can only assume you have raced over to interrupt my morning with the most wonderful of news.â
âItâs Francis,â Mary replied in a tight voice, brushing down her skirts. âSomethingâs wrong.â
The alliance between the two queens was precarious at very best, but they were, as always, tied together by one golden thread: their love for Maryâs husband, Catherineâs son, Francis.
âHas something happened?â Catherine was alert at once. âWhere is he? What have you done to him?â
âItâs nothing like that.â Wringing her hands, Mary paced the former queenâs chambers. She had spent most of the night awake, pretending to sleep while her husband did the same, and it was only after many hours of contemplation that she had decided to come to her mother-in-law for help. âHe isnât sleeping. Every night he has theseâ¦dreams. Every night he wakes screaming and itâs not right. Heâs so tired, Catherine, he could barely get out of bed this morning.â
âSo let him lie in for the morning, heâs the king of France,â Catherine replied with feigned carelessness. âHe has only just taken the crown, Mary, and born to it or not, the title of king carries weights and burdens you and I can never dream of. As much as you and I bear as queens, it isnât the same.â
âItâs not just that,â Mary replied, her dark eyes narrowing slightly. She hated when Catherine compared herself to Mary, it was a mirror she didnât care to look into. âHe talks about his father, about blood. And day by day, his temper is suffering. Francis isnât a man who thrives without his rest. Iâm worried for him.â
âHis father was the same,â Catherine said with a sigh. âHighly strung at the best of times and unmanageable without his sleep. I used a sleeping draught when things got difficult, knocked him right out. Let me see if I canât find a batch.â
âI donât wish to drug my husband,â Mary said, still pacing. âFrancis and I are not you and Henry. I know he would feel better if he would talk to me, butâ¦for whatever reason, he cannot.â
Catherine rolled her eyes at the young woman before her. From time to time, her heart softened toward her daughter-in-law, they had loved each other when Mary was a young girl, after all, but she had little time for indirect requests and the refusal to deal with a problem using the simplest solution available.
âMary.â She sat tall in her pale yellow robes, the silk echoing the color of her carefully pinned hair. âWould you like me to speak to Francis?â
âI would,â Mary said, taking a deep breath.
âYou believe he might be more comfortable speaking to me about whatever it is that is troubling him, than to you?â
Reluctantly, Mary nodded.
âPerhaps the lack of a legitimate heir is what keeps him awake at night?â
Mary stood stock-still, stunned by Catherineâs bluntness.
âI understand, Mary,â she continued, turning her back to her visitor and carefully tracing her eyebrows with her ring finger. âAlthough it was never Henry who worried himself out of dreams over his illegitimate son and mistress. Are you sure you arenât the one who is losing sleep?â
âI came to you out of concern for your son,â Mary said in a low and dangerous voice. She was not in the mood to be tested.
Although she knew she had crossed the line, Catherine couldnât help but smile, it was always fun to rattle the royal cage. âThe country is in a weakened state, Elizabeth sends spies to infiltrate our household and our own court is being poisoned against us by Lord Narcisseâs mere presence. All while you are planning parties for your cousins. I would worry less