A Queen Twice Over: Mary Tudor the Elder Marries Francis I of France

Trust me, that's one of the LEAST weird things I've read - according to geni.com, Mary Boleyn actually had five kids with William Carey: Catherine (1524), Henry (1526), John (1526), George (1527) and Richard, presumably born in 1528.
And, also according to geni.com, Thomas Boleyn Jr died in 1527, having married a woman called Elizabeth, and had a daughter called Lydia.
On one family history site, it said I was defended from Thor and Odin.
On one family history site, it said I was defended from Thor and Odin.
The early Anglo-Saxon kings claimed to be descended from Woden, who's the Germanic version of Odin. If you are a descendant of Alfred the Great (and I think roughly a third of people with European ancestors are), you are at least in theory a descendant of Odin. So it's not that crazy.
This is crazy. I don't even know the names of my great-grandparents.
On one side I know great-grandparents but nothing further and really very little about them. Then on a different side I can trace it back to the 15th century. Crazy what record are and aren't accessible.
This is crazy. All I know about my ancestors is from 23andme.
I know the names of all 16 of my gg-grandparents, where they're from, and when they died. I can use records to accurately trace one branch back to the 1790s, and another branch connects me to a decent rabbinic lineage (via the brother of the founder of a Hassidic dynasty) although I don't really have the records to prove that one.
I'm descended from portuguese people. That's it. Maybe we got some Braganza on the side, but I can't really say, though I do know that one of my ancestors was the maid of honor at the wedding of Princess Isabel, heir to the brazilian empire.
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Vikings and the Capets of France on my mom's side, Boudicca and the Plantagenets on my dad's side.
Wow, Boudicca, such a fascinating character! I also have Plantagenets and Capetians among my ancestors. El Cid too.

I managed to trace back most my ancestors to the 17th century, except the foreign branches (if anyone knows how to find online sources for Italian, Spanish, Swiss and probably German genealogy, I’m a taker!). Then, I found two noble ancestors, one on my dad’s side, the other on my mom’s. I was able to trace back the first one’s ancestors to the 8th or 9th centuries. I haven’t finished doing my mother’s genealogy though - it was difficult enough to find her own noble ancestress's christening certificate!
You guys have such cool ancestors. I’m descended from a dude who sold rice and a doctor. If I couldn’t get more Indian 😂
Honestly I didn't think my Breton ancestors could be highborn. All 19th century birth/marriage/death certifcates indicate most of them were ploughmen (men) farmers/growers (both sexes IIRC) and housewives (I think one of the women was a weaver too). Just imagine how surprised I was when I found one guy who was a Knight Hospitaller's illegitimate son:openedeyewink:
It was less surprising on my mother's side as one branch was more middle-class but still. Especially as I just don't know how two people from two different classes and living about 300 kilometers apart managed to meet and marry.
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Section XXX - March 1521
“If Charles of Spain wants a war, it’s a war he shall get!” Francis declares, looking around him at his commanders. Pride fills him as he sees them standing there, all strong and more than eager to give the Emperor a bloody nose. They are hanging on his every word, confident that he will have a bold plan, one that Charles of Spain and Burgundy will never see coming. He knows he cannot disappoint and so he sets his shoulders and glances up from the maps unfurled before him to his brother-in-law.


“Yes, Your Grace?” Alençon snaps to attention.

“I want you to take 3000 men and push down into Italy. Go through Ferrara and remind Duke Alfonso that, by the terms of his son’s betrothal contract, he is honour-bound to support us in our efforts to hold Milan.”

“Sire!” Alençon snaps into a salute and dashes away. Francis scarcely notices him disappear, so intent is he on the other men surrounding him.

“Henri, take 8000 men down into Navarre. It’s time you took your Kingdom back. Anne, I want you to go with him.”

“As you wish, My Lord,” Montmorency nods, though the young King of Navarre hesitates.

“Francis, I am grateful for the support, but what of my marriage to…”

“We’ll bring it forward,” Francis cuts the other man off, though he softens his abrupt tone by sparing a moment to smile at his brother monarch, “Rest assured, I would not seek to help you reclaim your Kingdom without a Queen to sit at your side.”

Pacified, Henri of Navarre nods and subsides, although Montmorency’s brow now furrows.

“And what of yourself, Your Grace? Where are you going to be? Which army are you going to lead?”

“Peace, Anne,” Francis chides lightly, holding up a hand, “We have only spoken of eleven thousand men so far, have we not? Yet France can field 20,000, can she not?”

“Oh, easily, My Lord!” His commanders rush to assure him and Francis smirks, “Exactly. That leaves me 9000 men at my disposal. But I would not wish to burden my subjects overmuch, so I shall only take 7000 men for now. Now, as for what I shall do with those 7000…” Francis lets his words hang in the air, enjoying the dramatic effect they are having on the men around him, “I have exchanged plans with King Henry of England. Our English allies will sail from Lynn and land in the Spanish Netherlands. Rotterdam, I believe, is where they shall be aiming to land. They shall come south, inciting rebellion and seizing what they can of the wool trade as they go. I shall ride out from Boulogne and join them. Together, we shall strike such a blow at the heart of Charles’s ancestral lands as shall never be forgotten!”

Caught up in the moment, Francis thumps the table, eliciting a roar of cheers from his generals.

“A war on three fronts, gentlemen,” he promises hoarsely, looking each of them in the eye in turn, “It will be bloody. It will be hard. But I’d like to see even an Emperor who can fight a war on three fronts alone and hope to win. Let Spain see what happens when France, England, Venice and Ferrara stand shoulder-to-shoulder! Let them see!”

“Let them see!” It is roared back at him exultantly and Francis feels a thrill of impending triumph go down his back. Charles of Burgundy has no idea what is about to hit him.

*** *** ***​

“Hmm?” At Marie’s question, Francis looks up from the treatise on hunting he has been perusing.

“If we’re sending Henri of Navarre to claim his kingdom, does Anne de Laval have to be his bride? Can’t we betroth him to Margot instead? After all, betrothing him to our daughter would show we’re truly serious about backing his claim, much more so than a proxy would… and Margot would get to be a Queen one day, rather than just a Duchess.”

Marie flutters her eyelashes and pouts just the tiniest bit as she speaks, the way she always did when she was trying to wheedle something out of her father or brother as a child.

Francis, only too used to the ploys of women, and hers in particular, chuckles as he sees it, but shakes his head all the same.

“We need the Ferranese on our side in Italy, mamours,” he says, reaching out to put a hand on her arm, “I know you only want what is best for Margot, and so you should, but I can’t risk the Ferranese stabbing Lautrec and Alençon in the back because they feel slighted. Not until we’ve put paid to Charles’s ambitions for Milan, at any rate. Besides, would you have me condemn an embattled brother monarch to having a child bride, one unable to secure his line for at least a decade? Non. Henri would think I was laughing at him, playing him for a fool. And we can’t have that. Not when we need to stand united against the Emperor. Anne de Laval is fifteen, more than old enough to be a mother. And she brings Henri her claim to Naples, which means we can wash our hands of that particular matter, should, God forbid, things go badly for us and we need to pull back from supporting Henri.”

“They won’t!” Marie says immediately, visibly recoiling at the thought of something going against her beloved husband and brother. Francis laughs lowly at the sight and rises to stand behind her, nuzzling her bright hair.

Ma lionne,” he says affectionately, “I pray they won’t. But no King can go into battle without thinking of the future. If the worst should happen – IF - ” he forestalls her protest with a fierce look, tipping her head back so that she has no choice but to look him in the eye, “You’ll work with my mother and Marguerite to secure France and Brittany for François and Renee, won’t you? I’ve made you Regent, but they know the country better. Use them.”

“I will,” Marie promises, “But you’ll come home. You have to.”

“I’ll certainly do my level best,” he assures her, “But just in case I don’t,” he scoops her into his arms, so that she squeals and has to loop her arms around his neck to keep from falling, “Let’s see if I can seed your womb with another babe to remember me by.”
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Francis is such a horndog....

Wonder if his mistress if going with him to the Netherlands?

War on three fronts seems like a tough call. Also little reserve of troops. How hard is Navarre going to be?

What are the Spanish and Portuguese up to now a European War has broken out again?
Ooh can't wait to see where this goes! Wonder how the war will go. Looks like Charles's is about to get slapped in the face with a fish!
wondering if francis will get himself captured again. i imagine marie would not appreciate that, or having her sons be sent to spain as hostages.