“Grandmother, I will not marry him!” my sixteen-year-old granddaughter insists. “He is a Moor and a heretic! Our family will be ruined, as well as my reputation. I will not be invited to court. My friends will abandon me. My life will be over!”

By our Blessed Virgin Mother, my granddaughter can be so dramatic and so stupid! But by God, she is a beauty that is for sure. Men desire her, but they don’t want to marry her. She will never have a good marriage she deserves due to her rank.

“You stupid girl,” I tell her calmly. “Don’t you realize our family is already ruined. Don’t you realize you will never be invited to court? Your so-called friends have already abandoned you. You have no reputation to speak of, since your father, God rest his soul, sided with Richard, even though I encouraged him not to support either Richard or Henry Tudor, both usurpers. Our family’s reputation as well as our wealth ended on Bosworth Field when Richard was killed, along with your grandfather. Your father, mother, and brother were executed at the Tower for treason. Then Henry stripped our family of our fortune, lands, and titles. His bitch of a mother had something to do with that, I am sure.”

“No, Lady Grandmother, the Queen Mother saved us. It was due to her mercy that you and I survived,” my granddaughter tells me.

“Lord be praised that you are blessed with a rare beauty because you are such a foolish child, Mary. The Queen Mother,” I scoff. “A fabricated title she gave herself and insists that everyone use. Margaret Beaufort Tudor only allowed us to live due to her desire to humiliate me. It was not mercy. The Usurper Henry is not even a true Englishman. He is Welsh, for God’s sake, and was raised in France. He used a mercenary army of foreigners and cursed England with the Sweating Sickness.”

“Lady Grandmother, you speak treason,” Mary tells me in a hushed voice and looks over her shoulder as if Margaret or Henry has spies everywhere, which they do.

I walk closer to my granddaughter and place my hands on her forearms. She winces from my tight grip. “Listen to me, girl,” I tell her kindly, even though my grip tightens on her arms. “It was Margaret who told her son to send us to an abbey to live out our lives or until you marry a suitable husband, knowing all too well that the King would never allow you a noble husband or even a lowly knight. Any son you have would be a threat to his throne. We are of the House of St. Croix and kin to the House of York. We are kin to the true line of Kings. Any son you bear would have a claim to the throne. Men would use your son as a puppet to take the throne from the Tudors. He is letting you marry a man of common birth, a Moor, and a man who does not practice the True Faith because he knows no one in England would support any son you had with him.”

Mary looks up at me. “I won’t marry a Moor! He…he has black skin and a black heart. Maria told me he is a pirate and cruel.”

I slap my granddaughter’s cheek, and the sound echoes in my small privy chamber. Mary cries out. I look over to Maria, my young French Lady-in-Waiting. My only Lady-in-Waiting, I am allowed to have by order of the King. I, a woman who once had a household full of servants and had over a dozen ladies in waiting, am now reduced to one!

Maria blushes and looks at her feet as I glare at her. Maria is twenty, a beautiful girl with blonde hair and dark eyes. She is from a minor noble French family and served in the French Court before she was banished by the French Queen, Anne of Brittany. Maria is rumored to have been the King of France’s mistress before her banishment, but she denies it.

She told me the French King and others tried to take her as a lover, but she denied them all. I did believe her. She is a beautiful girl, not as beautiful as my granddaughter, but if there were a contest, Maria would be a close second.

“You…you could send me to France. I could go to the French Court,” Mary begs.

“Never! You will never go to the French court!” I tell her harshly

I was sent to the French Court when I was younger and became a Lady-in-Waiting to the beautiful Queen of France, Marie of Anjou. I served her until I was eighteen, then my father bought me home to marry. I am well aware of the wickedness of the French Court. As beautiful as my granddaughter is, she would be seduced within a week, willingly or unwillingly.

“Spain then, I could be a Lady-in-Waiting to the Spanish Queen Isabella,” she proposes.

I laugh at her. “Stupid girl, you don’t even speak Spanish.”

“I won’t marry him!” Mary screams at me.

“You will marry him,” I tell her. “And be glad of it. I had to lower myself and beg that usurper Henry and his whore of a wife to permit you to marry. Now dry your eyes, leave me, and go pray and give thanks that I was able to find someone to marry you. He is no pirate; he is a lawful merchant with a fleet of ships.”

Mary sniffles and wipes her beautiful blue eyes. “Yes, Lady Grandmother.” She gives me a curtsy and leaves my privy chamber. As she opens the door, I see her two Ladies-in-Waiting. Two novice nuns from the abbey that Henry allowed me to appoint to serve my granddaughter. The taller, stocky one, Agnes, gives me a disapproving look when she sees Mary’s red cheek where I slapped her.

The Mother Superior of the abbey tried to force two old, wrinkled-up nuns to serve Mary, but I chose two young novices instead. Mary needed girls her own age around her, not two old women.

The first girl is Agnes. Agnes is a tall, stocky girl of seventeen with an ugly face like a wild boar. I chose her not just for her age, but because she has a mean disposition. She is known to bully the other novices. Mary needs a strong girl to serve her and protect her when I am not around. Agnes did just that; she protected Mary fiercely. I also chose her for her faith. She believes she has a true calling to serve God as a nun. Mary needed a woman of faith in her presence. Agnes is from the North, like our House, and that appealed to me.

The other young novice is a sixteen-year-old girl named Aina. Anie is a pretty little thing, but as thin as a willow branch. She is Irish and has pale skin and long curly red hair under her coif. It is going to be a shame when she must cut it when she takes her vows.

Unlike Agnes, Aine does not have a true calling. She is the youngest of eight children, and she was sent to the abbey because her family could not afford to feed all their children. Aina is a carefree, playful, and charming young girl. Her pagan superstitions often get her chastised and beaten by the Mother Superior. I chose her because Mary needed such a carefree girl around her while living in such a dreary place. To my disappointment, however, Mary is picking up some of Aine's pagan superstitions.

Both girls adore Mary, and they have become her friends and confidants. That made me proud of my granddaughter. If she can instill such loyalty in the girls, there may be hope for her yet.

I watch as the two girls jostle for the position of honor to be the first in the procession to walk behind Mary. I smile with pride. Since both girls are common-born and have no social standing, there is no protocol of noble rank for who should be the first behind Mary.

Maria giggles as Agnes shoves the smaller Irish girl, who falls to the ground, and wins the honor. Mary looks over her shoulder and scowls at them both, but I know it amuses her. Maria giggles again, and I suppress a smile when Aine makes a pagan gesture with her hands behind Agnes's back.

After my granddaughter leaves, I glare once more at Maria. She gives me a slight smile. I suddenly laugh, and her smile grows wider.

“Mary is foolish enough and doesn’t need you to fill her head with silly notions,” I chastise the pretty younger girl.

“But he is a pirate, My Lady,” Maria tells me and grins. I find her French accent charming.

“Of course he is, but he is also as rich as Croesus, and the Crown is in his debt. He used his ships to bring Henry and his army to England and loaned Henry a great deal of gold to help raise that army. Not that he will ever be repaid, but the King owes him, and that debt will help Mary in the future after I am dead.”

“Don’t say such a thing, My Lady,” Maria tells me and crosses herself.

“It’s true. After I am dead, Mary may be allowed to court even with her Moorish husband,” I tell the girl in French. “My granddaughter deserves so much more than I can give her now.”

“No, My Lady, you do so much for her; she just does not know it. But she will,” Maria tells me, and I smile kindly at her words.

I do love my granddaughter even though she is a foolish, frivolous girl. I blame her father for that. He spoiled her too much. I am strict with her for her own good. She is naïve and does not know how the world works. She so desperately wants to be sent to Court and be a Lady-in-Waiting to my cousin, Elizabeth of York.

My cousin, a distant cousin, but still a cousin; how I hated her. She did nothing as her husband, the King, ordered the execution of my husband, son, and daughter-in-law for treason. Elizabeth’s mother is a witch but also a former Queen herself, being married to Edward IV and brother to the late King Richard, and Elizabeth is an opportunistic whore.

The girl flaunted herself in front of Richard when he claimed the crown over Elizabeth’s own little brother, the son of Edward. He then imprisoned both her younger brothers in the Tower. Richard was her own uncle, for God’s sake, and married. Yet my whore of a cousin threw herself at him. Her own uncle by blood!

We all saw it; the entire Court was witness to it. I was outside her bedchamber when King Richard III took his own niece’s virginity, or so she told him she was a virgin. I had my doubts. I threatened the other two young ladies who were also attending Elizabeth that night with a flogging if they said a word.

She was to marry her own uncle after his poor, kind, sickly wife died and become the Queen, but her dreams were dashed that day at Bosworth when the Usurper Henry’s army defeated Richard’s and he was cut down. Then what does the whore do? She does not mourn; she marries the man who killed her lover and would be husband as well as her two younger brothers. Those two sweet boys whom Richard had imprisoned in the Tower.

Oh, the Tudors are clever. They spread their lies that it was Richard who murdered those innocent boys, but it was not. It was a plot instigated by Henry’s mother, Margaret Beaufort Tudor, who had the boys murdered.

Margaret used a planned rescue of the boys as a ruse. She had no intention of saving them; she had murdered them instead. The men who broke into the boys’ room in the Tower swore to God that the boys were not there. They had been removed by Richard. But that was a lie; they were in that room, and both were cut down with swords. Their bodies were removed and then lost forever.

I know the truth, because I was in the Tower that night. It was before my family and I were claimed traitors to the crown, before Henry sailed across the Channel with his army. I was at Court as a Lady in Waiting to the Queen, Richard’s wife, the sweet Queen Anne. My husband was a member of King Richard’s privy council.

I was bringing sweetmeats for the two precious boys. I often bribed the guards to allow me to bring them treats and toys to play with. I was loyal to the true King Edward and his heirs.

When I heard the commotion of the “rescue,” I hid myself, and I saw the men leaving the room, blood on their swords and splashed on their clothes, and carrying two small bodies wrapped in tapestries. One of the men was foolish and didn’t remove his badge from his doublet. It was the Red Dragon of Wales, the sigil of the House of Tudor, before Henry changed it to the red and white rose after he was crowned king. They whispered with one another in the harsh Welsh language.

I told my husband what I saw, and he begged me to remain silent.

“You are mistaken,” my husband told me.

“I know what I saw,” I said. “We need to tell the King.”

“No, we will not say a word,” my husband told me. “You will tell no one what you think you saw.”

“Why? We need to tell the King and the poor boys’ mother. I despise the woman even if she is kin, but she needs to know what has happened to her sons, the oldest is the heir to the crown,” I insisted. The boy's mother, and the widow of King Edward, was in sanctuary at Westminster. She sought sanctuary with her sons and daughters out of fear for their lives after he brother-in-law, Richard, claimed himself Lord Protector and then seized the Crown of England for himself.

Richard then proclaimed Elizabeth a witch; she bewitched his older brother Edward to fall in love with her, their marriage invalid, and their children bastards.

My husband grabbed my shoulders, and I thought he was going to strike me, something he had never done before. “Listen to me, wife, you will not say a word,” he shouted. “Those boys are no longer heirs to the throne. Richard is king now.” He then looked over his shoulder even though we were alone in his room. He pulled me into an embrace. “We don’t know it was the Tudors. It could have been Richard who ordered their death. If you value your beautiful head on your shoulders and mine and your son’s, you will forget what you saw."

I pulled back, shocked at what he just told me. I didn’t believe it. Richard would never have his nephews murdered. He was loyal to their father and loved his older brother Edward. He could have turned traitor many times, as their youngest brother George had done.

My husband’s fear frightened me, and I swore an oath on my prayer book that I would never tell anyone. I honored that oath and never told another person. But I know what I saw that night. It was the Tudors who murdered those boys.

It was then that I left the Court for good. I took my six-year-old granddaughter and retired to our estates in Sunderglenn. I only returned to Court when I was summoned by Henry. He proclaimed me a traitor, stripped me of my lands, titles, and wealth, forced me to watch my son and daughter-in-law executed for treason, and sent me to an abbey.

Now Elizabeth, their older sister, is queen, and she did nothing to stop my only son from being drawn and quartered, my sweet daughter-in-law beheaded, and their heads put on spikes. She did nothing when Henry stripped me of my lands, titles, and wealth and then sent me to live out my life as a pauper in an abbey. She could burn in hell for all I cared.

I tell Maria in English. “Maybe it would have been best if my neck had been placed on the block as well."

I am now fifty years old. I was a child when the Hundred Years' War with France ended. I lived through the war for the English crown between the Houses of York and Lancaster, which people now call the War of the Roses. I saw the crown change hands several times between the two Houses, and I served in the English Court under both Houses. I know how to play their games; I know their secrets. I know how to survive in the backstabbing Court of English Kings. They would eat my naïve, sweet, foolish granddaughter alive.

“Don’t say such things, My Lady, please. Don’t bring a curse on you,” Maria exclaims and crosses herself again.

I scoff at her religious gesture. The young girl is loyal to me; I’ll give her that. “Bring me some wine, dear, and pour yourself some as well, and bring it to my bedchamber. I am feeling slightly melancholy this evening.”

“Yes. My Lady,” Maria replied.

I walk into my bedchamber, and it makes my mood worse. It’s the largest room in the abbey that the Mother Superior had to give up when Henry sent me and my granddaughter here. She was unhappy about me taking her room, but I didn’t care. She is the daughter of a sheepherder, and I am the daughter of a duke.

The room is small, much smaller than I am used to, and does not have beautiful tapestries on the window or the fine furniture I am used to. The furnishings are sparse. A large bed that I brought with me, a chair, and next to it a small stool. It’s a depressing room. The room is lit by candles, more candles than it is used to. The Mother Superior still complains about how many candles I use. But she complains about everything I do. I sit in the chair.

As I wait for Maria, I think back on how she came to my service over a year ago. I had petitioned the False King to provide me with Ladies-in-Waiting to serve both me and my granddaughter. It was months before I received a reply, and when I did, it was in the form of Maria arriving at the abbey with a letter from my whore cousin, the Queen.

My dear cousin, she wrote. We have received your request for servants, but sadly, none of the ladies, young or old, are willing to serve a traitorous family with no honor, lands, or wealth. It goes against my dear husband’s honor to force any of them to attend to you and your granddaughter. Instead, he sends you a French whore. The King, my true love, has written the Mother Superior to allow you to choose two nuns to serve your sweet Mary. Your loving Cousin, Elizabeth, Regina Rex.

P.S. In my dear husband's generosity, he is giving you a yearly allowance of one hundred pounds to provide for your new household.

One hundred pounds! I was furious and burned the letter. Elizabeth wanted to humiliate me further, just like her mother-in-law. I then began to interrogate Maira.

I was impressed with the young French girl and found her charming. She was not afraid of my sternness or harsh and blunt questions. She told me why she had to leave the French Court and why Elizabeth called her a whore.

Maria was a newly appointed Lady-in-Waiting for the Queen. Elizabeth didn’t want her, but her husband, the King, insisted. Maria’s beauty and charm drew the attention of Henry. He gave her gifts and his attention. One night he tried to bed her, but she declined. That impressed me. Declining the will of a King is not something to take lightly. Elizabeth found out, publicly declared her a whore in front of the entire Court, and sent her to me.

I believed the young girl. Her answers to my harsh and direct questions were clear and concise, and I detected no lies in her words. I had served in four Royal Courts, one French and three under different English Kings, and from the experiences I learned from them, I knew when someone was lying.

Maria was sent to me in jest, but the jest was on Elizabeth. The young French girl proved more than capable of serving me. She tutored the two young novices on how to serve my granddaughter. I could not have asked for a better Lady-in-Waiting. I grew very fond of Maria, and she grew to love and adore me.

Maria comes into the room and hands me my glass of wine. I motion for her to sit next to me on the stool. I take a sip of wine, which gives Maria permission to start to drink hers.

“I was beautiful once, Maria. Even more beautiful than Mary. Poets used to write poems of my beauty, and minstrels used to sing songs of my beauty. But I am old now,” I tell my maid.

“You are still beautiful, Lady Katherine,” she tells me.

I look over and smile at her. She is not trying to flatter me; she truly believes I am. Truth is, at age fifty, I am still an attractive woman. Men younger than me desire me, but I don’t desire them as I would have if I were younger. Age has caught up to me, as it does us all. I am slim, but I have always been slender. My breasts have never been as large and full as Mary’s are or as Maria’s are, but they used to be firm and perky. Now they are slack. My arse is skinny and flat.

I have wrinkles on my face, around my eyes and mouth, and my body is now spotted by age freckles, but I am still attractive and look years younger than my fifty years. While I am past my childbearing years, men would still want to bed me out of lust. But men will bed almost any woman. It’s the cunny between their legs they want and nothing else.

“I am old and tired, Maria. I have no energy left,” I tell her.

Maria giggles and gives me a secret smile. “No, My Lady, you have plenty of energy left.”

I laugh. “You are a sweet girl, Maria. Now tell me, is this Majlad really cruel? I have not met the man and know little of him besides his business dealings.”

Maria shrugs, “I have just heard rumors, My Lady, from the nuns, but what do nuns know of the world?” she answers me. "But I have learned things in town, My Lady, but they are just rumors."

“True, why anyone would want this life is beyond me,” I say. Maria giggles.

"I don’t think Aine will take her vows, My Lady,” Maria tells me. “She wants to go with Lady Mary after she is married and continue to serve her.”

I nod and smile at that. I would be pleased if that happened. “And Agnes?”

“Agnes is devoted to Lady Mary, but devoted to her faith more. She says God is testing her calling,” Maria tells me. “She prays constantly over her doubts, but I think she will take her vows.”

I frown. I would prefer it if Agnes would choose to continue to serve Mary.

“Tell me about these rumors you have heard about this Majlad?” I ask Maira.

She would have more knowledge of the man than I would. Common people are hesitant to speak the truth to people who are so far above them. Plus, I am not allowed to leave the abbey grounds, and Maria goes into the small nearby town to listen to rumors for me while she is purchasing goods.

“They say he is very handsome even if he is a Moor,” she tells me.

I scoff. “Yes, I know that if his looks are similar to the likeness in the small portrait that was sent to us. What else?”

“I heard he converted to the True Faith to marry Lady Mary,” Maria tells me, and I nod. That was good and pleased me. “They say he was a great warrior and killed many Christians in the Reconquista.” Maria crosses herself again.

“Well, they were Spanish Christians, so that makes no matter,” I tell Maria, and she frowns. She does not like me mocking our faith.

I drink the rest of my wine in one gulp and stand up. Maris stands when I do. She is a good Lady-in-Waiting and knows her protocol. I hand her my glass, and she walks across the room and puts the glasses on the table. Her’s is still half full.

“I believe it’s time for bed, now,” I tell the younger girl.

I watch as Maria turns down my bedcovers, and then I hold my arms out. Maris begins to undress me. She first removes my hood and unbraids my shoulder-length brown, blonde hair. I am blessed with no grey hair yet. Maria unlaces my bodice, and I sigh in relief when she removes the bone plate from between the bodice and my breasts.

As Maria is undressing me, I feel pity for her. I know I am a stern woman, strict in my rules, and controlling, and poor Maria is doing the duty of my Lady-in-Waiting alone when I am used to having many more. But the sweet French girl is devoted to me and loves me and does not seem to mind.

I stand naked in my room and shake my head when Maria brings me my white chemise. I smile at the girl. “Not tonight. Dear, tonight I won’t need that.”

Maria smiles widely and blushes. “Yes, My Lady,” she says, and I can hear the eagerness in her voice.

I sit on the edge of my bed. “Undress for me, dear,” I tell Maria. “I enjoy watching you undress and take your time.” Maria giggles again and eagerly but slowly undresses for me. She enjoys it as much as I do.

I have enjoyed the company of other women in my bed sexually ever since I was sixteen and serving Queen Marie of Anjou. The older and beautiful French Queen took me into her bed one night, not as her sleeping companion, but as a lover. I was her lover for over a year. She taught me how two women can give each other pleasure as a man and a woman do.

She showed me her specially made objects that resembled a man’s penis and used them on me to give me great pleasure. Other objects she used in my arsehole to give me pleasure. She called them her toys. That was my first lesson that everyone is subject to the will and whims of Kings and Queens.

When the King and Queen went to Corona De Castilla to sign a treaty, my beauty captured the attention of the lovely, young, dark-haired, dark-eyed Queen of Castile, Isabella, the mother of the Spanish Queen that my granddaughter suggested I could send her to serve. I knew she desired me because she looked at me the same way my Queen looked at me.

We were at the Castile court for a week, when Isabella made her desire known in words and actions, and not just her looks. After a royal dinner and during the entertainment, my Queen sent me to her bedchamber to fetch a gift she had brought for the Spanish Queen. Marie had been forgetful in giving it to the other queen.

As I was returning to the great hall, I met Isabella, and she was alone, which was odd. The young queen grabbed my arm and pulled me into a corner that was hidden from view. She pushed me against the wall and pressed her body against mine.

“You are very beautiful, Katherine,” she told me in heavy accented English.

“T…thank you, Your Majesty,” I replied. I was trembling from both fear and desire. I wanted her as badly as she wanted me. I had since I first saw her.

Isabella started kissing my neck, and I moaned in pleasure. “I want you, Katherine,” she told me. She started to gather the hem of my gown in her hand and started to lift it. She wanted access to my cunny. “Come to my bedchamber tonight. I will send my ladies away. I command it,” she told me, and she started to kiss my neck some more. I gasped out from pleasure when her finger entered me. I dropped the ornate, small wooden box that contained her gift from my Queen.

“I…oh, Your Majesty, please, I…ohh…I can’t,” I begged and tried to push her hand away. I was trembling again, more from fear now than arousal. To deny a Queen is a terrible thing. “Please…please don’t make me,” I begged her.

“You want me as well, Katherine, you desire it also,” she told me as she looked into my face and still used her finger inside me. “Don’t deny it, girl! Your, how do you say…cunt…your coño is wet from the need to have me take you!” she told me and sounded angry.

“Oh, Your Majesty, please,” I cried. “Yes…yes, I want to. I want you to take me. I want to come to your bedchamber, but I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Why, answer me, girl, and answer me true,” she demanded. She was only three years older than me, but called me a girl as if I were a child.

I told her. I told her something I promised the Queen I served, I would never tell anyone. Oh, the other Ladies-in-Waiting to Queen Marie knew, some may have been her lovers before me, the servants surely knew. Servants knew everything that happened in the palaces of kings and queens and emperors and empresses around the world. But no one would dare expose that secret. To do so would mean being sent to the scaffolds on some trumped-up crime.

Isabella’s reaction was not what I expected. I just knew she was going to take me right there in the hidden corner, and there was nothing I could do about it. She would make me get on my knees while she lifted the skirts of her gown, and she would force me to please her with my mouth and fingers. Then later, she would summon me to her bedchamber, and I would have no choice but to go. There she would take me.

But she didn’t. She let go of me and laughed. She kissed my lips, and I kissed her back, then she left to rejoin the festivities in the great hall of her palace. I took time to compose myself. I adjusted my hood that had gotten twisted, smoothed out the hem of my gown, picked up the wooden box that contained the gift, and went back to the great hall.

Once in the hall, I walked to the high table where both Kings and Queens sat, gave them a low curtsy, and handed Marie the box. Isabella smiled at me and then leaned over and whispered something in Marie’s ear.

My Queen looked at me and laughed, which caused me to blush. She then leaned over and whispered something into the other queen’s ear. Isabella giggled and nodded her head as she looked at me. I blushed again. Marie waved her hand at me to dismiss me. I curtsied low again and went back to my table to join the other ladies of the court.

I saw Isabella open the box, smile, and lift a jeweled necklace from the box. She thanked Marie and showed the gift to her husband, and then put it around her neck.

Neither queen summoned me to their bedchambers that night, and I was both relieved and disappointed. The next night, I was summoned to attend my Queen.

I was sitting in the privy chamber of Queen Isabella while she and Queen Marie were in her bedchamber playing cards. One of Isabella’s ladies and another Lady-in-Waiting for Marie were attending them. I sat in the privy chamber surrounded by at least a dozen of Isabella’s ladies.

Some were playing cards, others sewing, and others gambling with dice. They were all speaking Spanish, and I could not understand a word they said. Some would look at me and say something in Spanish to another lady, and they would giggle. After about an hour had passed, the doors to the bedchamber opened.

We all stood up and gave the Queens a curtsy. Isabells dismissed all of her ladies, and Marie dismissed Margery, her other lady. She then motioned for me to follow her into the bedchamber. One of the Spanish ladies walked by me and whispered something in my ear, but it was in Spanish, and I did not understand it.

Once in the bedchamber, I gave my Queen a low curtsy and then one to Isabella as protocol called for.

“Are you enjoying your time here, Katherine?” Maire asked me.

“Yes, Your Majesty, it’s a pretty country and a beautiful palace,” I told her. In truth, I thought the weather was too hot and dry, and the palace was gaudy.

I watched as the beautiful, dark-haired, dark-eyed queen sat on the edge of her large bed. My Queen walked behind me.

“Do you know why you are here tonight, Katherine?” she asked me, and I felt her start unlacing my gown in the back.

“To…to wait on you, Your Majesty,” I stammered.

Maire laughed. “In a way. You are here to please us, Katherine. Both of us. Isabella told me of your and hers encounter in the hall last night,” Marie told me and pulled my gown off my shoulders. She kissed my shoulders a few times, and I shivered from pleasure. I glanced at the other queen, and Isabella was watching us with lust in her eyes. Isabella started untying the ribbons on the front of her gown.

Marie pulled my gown off of me and started to untie my bodice as I stared at the other Queen as she undressed. I was breathing heavily, and my heart was beating faster and harder.

“Do you want to please both of us, my sweet Katherine?” Marie asked me.

“Yes…Yes, Your Majesty,” I answered honestly.

“Isabella and I fucked last night, Katherine,” Marie whispered in my ear. “I think you will find her delightful.”

Marie pulled open my bodice to expose my breasts and ran her finger seductively up my naked back. I shivered in excitement. Isabella was not wearing a bodice, and she spread open her gown to expose her breasts to me. They were small, almost as small as mine, and tipped with dark brown nipples.

“Yes…yes, Your Majesty,” I replied. What choice did I have? They were both Queens of powerful countries. I could not deny them. I didn’t want to deny them.

“Do you remember what I told you the first night I took you as my lover, Katherine?” my queen asked as she removed the last of my clothes.

“Yes, Your Majesty. You told me it was my choice, and I didn’t have to if I didn’t want to, and you would not take any consequences against me if I denied you.”

I believed her then, but I was young and naïve when Marie took me as a lover. Now I am old and wise and have been around the game of Kings and Queens long enough to know she most likely was lying. But I let her take me as a lover that first night because I wanted her to and desired her.

“The same applies tonight, my sweet,” she told me. “Do you want to join us in bed?” I was fully naked now.

I looked at Isabella, who was now fully naked as well and wearing the necklace Marie had given her. She had her legs spread and was running her fingers up and down her cunny as she looked at my naked body.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I said. My answer was directed at the Queen sitting on the bed, touching herself, and looking at me with yearning in her eyes.

Maria then walked in front of me and got on her knees. She started to give me pleasure with her mouth, tongue, and fingers as Isabella watched and gave herself pleasure. After the French Queen gave me an orgasm, the other queen motioned me to her with her finger. I walked to the bed, got on my knees, and used my mouth, tongue, and fingers to make her climax.

As I was tasting her and licking her and fingering her, Marie undressed. She then got into the large bed. As she lay in the bed, I noticed fresh welts on her buttocks. I was curious how she got them, but dared not ask. It was later that night when I discovered how my Queen received the marks when Queen Isabella used a birch switch and put welts on my buttocks.

Marie lay next to Isabella, and they started to kiss and fondle each other’s breasts and nipples. Maria whispered something in the other woman’s ear. Isabella smiled, raised her legs, and exposed her asshole to me. I now knew what Marie told her. I placed my hands on her small buttocks, spread them apart, and placed my tongue up her arse as Maries used her fingers inside the other Queen’s pussy.

I gave both queens a great deal of pleasure that night, and they both did the same for me and for each other. Marie had brought her toys, and both Queens used them on me and on each other. I discovered Isabella was a cruel lover, and she showed me how pain can also be pleasurable.

The French delegation stayed in Castile another month before the two kings could agree to the treaty. The King of France pledged his support and troops to help drive the Moors from the rest of Spain. The King of Castile promised support and troops to help drive the English from parts of France and Calais. Neither King honored their agreement, but that was between kings and nations and had nothing to do with me.

What had to do with me was that for the next month, I joined both queens in bed many nights, and some nights just Isabella and me. That was my second lesson that everyone is subject to the will and whims of Kings and Queens. By the time we left, my opinion of the country of Castile had changed for the better.

I was my Queen's lover for four more months after we returned to France. Then an erotic beauty arrived at the French Court, and I was put aside like a used-up whore.

A seventeen-year-old Saracen and her father came to the French Court. Both had converted to the True Faith and were afraid for their lives, and, escaping the Muslims who were murdering Christians, they came to France. The girl’s father was a great man in his country and was wealthy. His daughter was granted the honor of becoming a Lady-in-Waiting for the Queen. Marie was captivated by her exotic beauty. With my help, my Queen seduced the exotic beauty. Marie took the girl as her new lover, and I was put aside. I was still one of her ladies, but I no longer slept in her bed.

I loved the older, beautiful French Queen, and my heart was broken. That was my third lesson that everyone is subject to the will and whims of Kings and Queens.

When I was seventeen, I became the mistress of the handsome, oldest son of a French Comte. He was older than me by fifteen years and married. He taught me how a man can please a woman, and the French tricks women can use to please a man. Yes, I knew all about the wickedness of the French Court. I then came back to England when I was eighteen to marry my husband.

I grew to love my husband and used my French tricks to please him when he came to my bedchamber. He never took a mistress because I knew how to keep him coming to my bed. I never took a lover, either a man or woman, because I came to truly love my husband and didn’t desire another. My husband was a good and honorable man, and I was proud to be his wife, proud to give him a son. His honor got him killed along with my son.

I ran our household with strictness it was not used to. I kept our books and financial records. I collected our rents, which my husband had been falling behind on. I made sure our stewards were not thieving from us, and if they did, I told my husband what punishment he should pass out for the thieves. Under my rule, our household’s wealth grew so that we were soon one of the wealthiest Houses in England. Then, Henry Tudor crossed the channel and landed his army on English soil.

I didn’t desire a man or woman after my husband was executed, but when I took Maria as my Lady-in-Waiting and she started sleeping in my bed, I began to desire her. A little over a year after she joined my treasonous household, I seduced her. I gave her the same choice Queen Maire gave me all those years ago, but unlike Kings and Queens, I keep my promises. I have honor.

Maria eagerly agreed and admitted she had come to love me and desire me as well. She told me she was a virgin and had no experience with men, not to mention women. I assured her I would teach her everything she needed to know. Maria was a quick study.

Maria is now undressed, and looking at her naked body brings me out of my thoughts as well as my melancholy mood. She is a lovely girl with a fantastic figure. I make a waving motion, and Maria smiles at me as she brushes her long, curly, golden blonde hair away from her full breasts.

“Have you said your prayers tonight, Maria?” I ask her.

The girl shakes her head. “Not yet, My Lady,” she tells me.

I spread my thin legs and gave the girl a wicked smile. “Well, come here and we will pray together,” I order her.

Maria giggles as she walks to me and kneels between my legs. She looks up at me. “That’s blasphemy, My Lady, you should be more careful of how you mock God,” she tells me, but there is humor in her voice.

I laugh. “Oh, my sweet girl, of all my sins, blasphemy is the least I am worried about,” I tell her. She laughs with me, and her laugh is musical.

I stop laughing and gasp out from pleasure when Maria reaches out and brushes her fingers against my pussy. Her touch is light and seductive. She runs her fingers up and down the slit of my pussy. Maria moves her head closer and inhales my scent. I moan as Maria presses slightly harder on my pussy, and she continues to tease me. I enjoy it when she teases me.

“You’re very wet, Lady Katherine,” the French girl tells me.

Her accent is more pronounced as it always is when she gets sexually excited. I smile at how she refers to me as Lady Katherine even when we are intimate with each other. The girl still knows her place. We both find it arousing when she does so.

Maria places a finger into my pussy and then a second one. As she does so, she looks up at me and smiles. The lovely blonde girl keeps looking at my face as she works her fingers in my pussy. I make faint moans of pleasure as she slowly pushes them inside me, pulls them out, and slowly pushes them into me again.

"Oh, God, yes," I moan out as the girl pushes her fingers deep into me and starts to twist them and make circular motions with them inside me.

"Does that make you feel good, Lady Katherine?" she teases me with her words. She is well aware she is giving me pleasure.

"Yes...yes," I gasp out.

Maria giggles. "I know what will make you feel even better," she tells me.

The French girl pulls her fingers out of me and licks her two glistening, delicate digits. She lowers her head to my pussy, inhales my scent once more. I moan when Maria runs her tongue up the slit of my pussy and moan once more when she places her tongue inside me.

Maria’s tongue inside me felt pleasant, but it didn’t give me the pleasure her fingers did; the girl knew that. She was using her tongue to lap up my fluids and to taste me. Maria enjoyed smelling and tasting my pussy. Yes, I enjoyed hers as well, but the French girl had an obsession with mine. She could never seem to get enough of tasting me. Not that I minded her passion for my cunny.

Maria teases me with her tongue. The girl enjoys teasing me, and then I give a gasping moan when she places one hand on my pelvis. She uses her fingers to pull up my clit hood to expose my clit, and then uses her finger from her other hand to tease my exposed pleasure nub.

“Ohh….yes…yes, Maria…that…keep doing that,” I moan out and lie my body on the bed.

I hear her giggle. Maria places her mouth over my pussy and starts using her tongue on my clit. She flicks it over the swollen pleasure nub rapidly, giving me a great deal of pleasure. The young girl then inserts one, then a second, and then a third finger into my wet cunny. Maria thrusts her fingers into me hard and fast.

“Ohh, my sweet…yes, yes,” I cry out.

“Play with your nipples, Lady Katherine,” Maria tells me, places her mouth on my pussy again, and her tongue teases my clit once more.

I place my hands on my small, flat breasts and use my thumbs and forefingers to pleasure my hard nipples. I look down and see Maria’s eyes looking at my face as she pleasures me.

I feel her fingers move inside me, and I cry out as Maria’s fingers find that sweet, small pleasure spot inside my cunny. That delightful spot that gives a woman a great deal of pleasure. The spot Queen Marie showed me how to find, and I taught Maria how to find.

The French girl only needs several seconds of stimulating that spot with her fingers before I climax. I cry out once more, my fingers tighten on my nipples, my back arches, and my inner thighs start to tremble as I orgasm.

My orgasm ends, and Maria licks my pussy so she can taste me once more. She runs her pink tongue up and down the slit, around my mound, and once more places her tongue inside me. I giggle because she tickles me.

I pant as I lie on my back and enjoy her ticklish attention and the blissful feeling of the after-orgasm euphoria. Maria is done licking me, and she giggles as she pounces like a cat on the bed next to me. She curls her legs under her and snuggles against me.

I envy her youthful energy as much as I am charmed by her playfulness and adoration of me. I look down at her lovely face and see her golden hair spilled over my chest. Maria starts kissing my chest, breasts, and nipples. I sigh from pleasure and regret. I am going to have to find her a suitable husband soon, I think to myself, she is already twenty, and she deserves a husband and to have children. I know I have been selfish in keeping Maria to myself.

Unlike me and my granddaughter, Maria is not cursed with traitors’ blood, and I wish I could find her a baron or earl at least; she is from a French noble family. With her beauty, maybe even a Marquis. With Mary marrying a wealthy man, I could even pay her dowry. But the poor girl has been labeled a whore by the Queen, and her reputation has been tarnished.

She would never be allowed back at court, and of course, I would never want her to go back. Henry would try to seduce her again, and the next time he may not take no for an answer. I could find her a rich merchant who could provide for her.

Unaware of my thoughts, Maria smiles and looks up at me, expectantly.

“Would you like me to return the favor, my dear?” I ask. Maria rarely asks me to please her. It seems content to please me.

“Only if it pleases you, Lady Katherine,” she tells me as she grins and nods her head emphatically.

I laugh. She knows damn well I enjoy pleasing her as much as she pleases me. “Move up on the bed,” I tell her.

Maria quickly moves and lies back on the bed. She pulls the bed coverings up to her chin and grins. “Please be gentle, My Lady, I am a virgin,” she teases.

I laugh again. I enjoy her games; it makes me feel young again. I get under the covers with her, and we both turn to our sides to face one another. I put my arms around her and pull her close. Maria puts her arms around me.

“You are beautiful, Maria,” I tell her as I brush her hair away from her face. She smiles.

She starts to tell me I am beautiful, also, but I interrupt her when I press my mouth to hers. Maria parts her natural pouty, red, full lips to allow my tongue to enter her mouth. As we kiss, I run a hand down to her shapely buttocks. Maria drapes her leg over mine and makes soft whimpers as I start to kiss her more fiercely.

I place my hand between her legs from behind and run my fingers over her soft, fine, golden cunny hairs. Maria moans into my mouth and presses her chest tighter to mine. Her young, full breasts press against my smaller, older, flatter ones.

I run my fingers up and down her cunny to tease her as she teased me, and I break our kiss, lower my head, and start kissing her lovely, firm breasts. Maria throws her head back and moans.

“S'il vous plaît, Madame Katherine, s'il vous plaît, mettez-les en moi,” she calls out in French for me to put my fingers into her pussy. Maria always spoke her native language when I made love to her.

I don’t do as she begs me. I tease her more as she did me. Maria continues to moan and beg me in French. I continue to tease her drenched pussy with my fingers and her pink, hard nipples with my mouth and tongue. I enjoy tormenting the girl with pleasure and listening to her beg in French.

“Do you like that, Maria?” I ask her mockingly in her language.

“Ohh...oui, oui, Madame Katherine,” she moans out.

I tease the girl until her body is squirming from the blissful torture I am giving her. Her arms clinch me tight, and her fingers dig into the flesh of my back.

I suddenly stop, and Maria moans with frustration. I rip the bed covers off our bodies and move to kneel next to her head. I kiss the lovely girl on her lips and then bend over until my head is inches from her cunny. Maria wraps both her arms around my thin thigh. I spread her legs and bury my head into her sweet, slightly earthy-smelling cunny.

As she did with me, I take my time and taste her. I lick up her short cunny slit, back down, and place my tongue inside her. Maria’s arms grip my thigh tighter, and her hips buck up into my face as she lets out a long gasping moan.

I then push my tongue into her, and Maria pulls my leg. I know what she wants. I lift my leg and straddle her. I lower my butt to her face. As I use my tongue in the girl’s pussy, licking and tasting her as she did me earlier, I feel Maria place her small, delicate hands on my thin, flat buttocks. She spreads them apart, and I gasp and moan as she uses her tongue on me again. But this time it’s my arsehole she is licking.

Maria makes circular motions with her tongue around my arsehole. As Maria tantalizes my arsehole, I begin to use my finger on her clit, causing her to moan loudly. It’s a good thing the nuns avoid the area of the abbey I have taken over, like I have the Sweating Sickness. Maria is loud when she is fucked.

The French girl places her tongue inside my arse and starts to rub her fingers over my clit. I place my fingers inside her as I find that small spot inside her cunny as she did mine. Maria’s hips buck up into me once more, and she starts crying out in French to God and me.

I massage her sweet little spot harder and faster, and my fingers are causing a squishy sound from her pussy as her cunny fluids splatter out of her. I let out a grunting moan as Maria replaces her tongue with her finger in my arse. She starts to thrust her small digit in and out of me in a twisting motion as she continues to rub my clit.

I lick her clit harder and faster and stimulate her spot more rapidly. I feel myself about to orgasm once more, and I want Maria to climax when I do. Maria senses I am about to orgasm and places a second finger in my arse.

We do orgasm at the same time. My head jerks up as I cry out, but I still use my fingers inside Maria. Maria calls loudly in French; she is going to climax. Her back arches and her legs shake as she cums. Then her fluids gush from her cunny. Her fluids squirt out of her in a series of bursts. It sprays over my face and hair. I open my mouth to catch what I can. Maria is a watermaker.

I first experienced such a thing with Queen Isabella when I was seventeen. She was a watermaker. At first, I thought she pissed on me, but her fluid was as clear as running spring water and had a sweet taste to it. She explained to me what it was and told me she was a watermaker. I enjoyed it when she would squirt it on my face, and I would drink up what I could.

After our orgasms ended, I lay my head on Maria’s thigh and my wet hair spread over her leg. I was breathing hard.

“Mon Dieu, c'était incroyable,” Maria tells me in a husky tone as she makes delicate pants.

When I catch my breath, I move to lie beside my younger lover, and we wrap our arms around one another. Maria places kisses on my face and licks my cheeks to taste herself.

We stay silent for a while, enjoying being in each other’s arms. Maria then starts kissing my neck. She is young and her desires are not easily sated.

“Can we use them tonight, Lady Katherine?” she asks me as she kisses and licks my neck.

“Use what, my sweet?” I tease.

Maria giggles at my teasing. “Please, Lady Katherine,” she pleads.

I give an exaggerated sigh as if I don’t want to do what Maria wants, but I do. I was planning it. “Ok, my dear,” I tell her as if it is a great chore she is asking me to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cont’d in the next chapter.

Historical Notes:

The main protagonist, her family name, and her former Duchy are completely fabricated.

The Princes in the Tower. Most historians agree that it was Richard III who had the young princes murdered, but there is a theory that it was a plot conceived by Margaret Beaufort Tudor, who would have benefited from the death of the young boys. Most historians discredit that theory, but I find it plausible and interesting, so I included it in my story.

There are many other historical facts and theories not supported by facts about the Princess in the Tower, but I omitted them on purpose.

The Tudor Kings and Queens, from Henry VII to Elizabeth I, executed between 80,000 and 85,000 people for treason alone, nobles and commoners. While the majority were under the rule of Henry VIII (between 45,000 to 50,00), the other Tudor kings and queens executed many for treason as well.

The Sweating Sickness was a disease whose outbreaks ravaged England for almost a hundred years. It is not to be confused with the Plague. It was a mysterious illness that killed hundreds of thousands. It killed quickly. Literally, a person came down with the illness, and the next day they were dead.

Historians still have no idea what the cause or illness was. They do believe it was some type of respiratory illness. The first outbreak was in 1485 at the end of the Wars of the Roses, leading to speculation that it may have been brought from France by French mercenaries who were hired by Henry VII. Due to the outbreak coinciding with Henry VII becoming King, many people believed that it was a sign from God that Henry was not the true King of England.

I use more modern vulgar slang terms for sexual organs and sexual acts, etc., in my story that were not used in 15th-century England. Makes it easier, and I don’t like the word “Cunt”, which was used in the 15th century, so I use pussy instead. The word “Cock” was a vulgar term used for a man’s penis.

The term "watermaker" for a woman who "squirts" I got from an erotic fiction novel set in 13th-century Europe. I could find no evidence of the term ever being used, but I liked it, so I included it in my story.

Being a Lady-in-Waiting to a Queen or a high-ranking noblewoman was considered a great honor. Some high-ranking noble women were Ladies-in-Waiting to Queens (countesses and duchesses). They did receive an allowance for their position.

It was also common for a noble woman of high rank to select one of her Ladies to share her bed; it was considered a great honor and normally reserved for her favorites. It was nonsexual in nature. However, I am sure with some, there was sex involved, especially an older woman and a younger Lady-in-Waiting.

While the catholic church laws made same sex relationships between women during Medieval times illegal, it was rarely documented or discussed. They did not consider it as dangerous as male same sex relations. Men, often within the church, found sex without male genitalia hard to imagine. So, they often assumed lesbian sex could only exist if women used sexual instruments like dildos.