CIRCA REGNA TONAT.

❝ MY LUST, MY YOUTH DID THEM DEPART. AND BLIND DESIRE OF ESTATE. WHO HASTES TO CLIMB SEEKS TO REVERT; OF TRUTH, CIRCA REGNA TONAT. ❞ —— CLEMENT STAFFORD, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM; AS WRITTEN BY CLAU.

[clemcntstafford]

dukecfnorfolk‌:

Norfolk flicked his glance upward as Clement strode into his office, his surprise and irritation equally palpable. He had no particular reason to dislike the man, his nephew by marriage, except there was some pomposity in his gestures that Howard found particularly irritating - picked up in France, he had no doubt. “I should hardly call my activity brooding, but if that is the word you choose, I shall not stop you.” He shrugged his shoulders, setting his report aside for the moment. “The Duchess would have greeted you, I’m sure, were she not at home in Redbourn.” He divulged no further detail on that point. “And I have been quite occupied with business matters. I should be curious to hear more of this olive branch, though I say again, you shall have to speak quickly, nephew, for my time is limited and precious. What is it that brings you back to this humble isle - and further, to me?”

                                Norfolk’s terseness regarding his wife’s vague whereabouts was felt as keenly as a prompt chill descending upon the skin and Buckingham counseled himself to tread lightly, resolved not to press the issue. His own bloodline was entangled with the Howard’s pedigree and as a result he felt sympathetic toward Norfolk’s wife and children, for there was little that compared to the joys of family. ❛ Your wit is unparalleled, uncle, but I wonder if you are truly as ignorant to my presence as you present yourself. ❜  Clement lifted a brow and folded his fingertips inward,  ❛ there is not a tongue that does not pay homage to the muse of hearsay; as I take it, my return was much speculated upon. I trust you have busied yourself in my absence? ❜

[clemcntstafford]

dukecfnorfolk‌:

open

The Duke of Norfolk prided himself on being a busy man, always - working toward a greater goal. There was much to accomplish, and the more that he accomplished, the more valuable he was to the Crown. It was his desire, always, to be indispensable. So naturally interruptions were troubling if anyone short of the King was demanding his attention, taking away from time that could be spent in more valuable pursuits.

This much explained his annoyance at this current intrusion, Norfolk barely looking up from the report that sat on his writing desk. “You had best have something important to speak of, or at least be able to convince me of such, and you had best do it quickly.”

                                ❛ Would I interrupt your brooding were my reasons not of the greatest import, Uncle?  ❜  His knuckles lowered from the oak-door he’d rasped against in gaining Norfolk’s attention, albeit it appeared at the moment to be divided by his slaving over paperwork. Buckingham strolled toward the pair of seats arranged before the duke’s escritoire and lowered upon their wooden frames without invitation, his muscular limbs adjusting to the rigidity of the seats; they were as cold and stiff as stone, cementing Norfolk’s aversion to playing hostess. ❛ Upon my return to the isle, I expected to receive a summons from either yourself or the duchess in welcome. When silence followed for nearly a fortnight, I took it upon myself to extend the olive branch – and thus here I find myself. Have you a moment to spare? ❜

[clemcntstafford]

lareine-eleanor‌:

Eleanor smiled wistfully at the mention of Austria. “Austria is a little more…” She searched for the right word that would not offend either court. “Solemn,” she said. “Our pageantry is still very beautiful. I would compare it to winter and spring.”

                             Short-lived laughter quieted upon the queen’s mention of Austria’s solemn nature. His travels abroad had allowed him insight into England’s allies and foes, and yet knowledge of Eleanor’s birthplace eluded him – perhaps, as she attested to, he had neglected any country known for being solemn.  ❛ You paint a beautiful testimony to your homeland, madam. Whilst I condemn my prying nature, your ‘succinctness’ lends itself to curiosity – if I should not intrude on your time, I would ask that you share more of your beloved Austria. I am most intrigued. ❜ 

[clemcntstafford]

hapsburgphillip‌:

“I am sure we will return to England many a time – I am sure Her Highness will want to introduce our child to the land of her birth, and I would hope that England and Spain would be forever unified in this progeny – and so we would often return.” Phillip warmed a little to the mention of his home. “It is as breathtaking a place as any man can make, my lord. Heat aside. I think of it often here. Even the heat, as it is still so cool in the air.”

                               ❛ ‘Tis commendable that Her Highness still holds fast to her roots – I know no better patriots than his late Majesty’s children, and hold no doubts that Spain and England will remain harmonious under the new king’s rule and with the added assurance of the nieces and nephews that will be shared between the realms. As for Spain, your words conjure fond memories of my time there; I suspect I will return before the season lets out, is there a specific month that best showcases the country’s beauty? I find springtide allows England to sport her best colours, but such is not the same of all nations, certainly not of the highlands. ❜

[clemcntstafford]

rcyalscot‌:

the conversation had been churning along at a predictable pace as the ladies radcliff and barrel discussed light matters over light fare and tea. as beautiful as the day was — the sun was out, showing off its brightness and warmth; birds and insects sang and hummed everywhere; the green and late summer hues were intoxicating — meg was disappointed but unsurprised by how unaffected her company remained. whereas the very state of being outdoors unlocked a delicious, romantic impulse within herself, the old ladies were happy to talk of people they knew and things they had done and places they would go.  yet, meg was left languishing as they made even flowers sound dull and boring.

excusing herself from the conversation, meg was happy to run (literally) away from the conversation. her shoes tapping lightly and quickly against the cobblestone was all she could hear as she moved along the tall hedges of the gardens. she yearned for something, anything fun. perhaps her cousin was holding a banquet for some foreign ambassador and she had forgotten about it. turning a sharp corner, meg nearly collided with an unknown figure.  “i’ve almost trampled you! please, forgive me.” 

                             Buckingham was beholden to the sudden and most rapid evolution of winter into a mild spring. February’s climes were bitter ends no doubt but there appeared to be a light flickering at the end of the tunnel, and Clement had begun to enjoy his jaunts into the courtyard for it was no longer so unbearable – nor so adverse to one’s well being – to languish a few moments in the sun each day. This was precisely what the duke was doing when he came face to face with the Scottish princess – to the most literal root of the verb. He placed his hands upon her only momentarily to steady the young woman, brows knitting together out of concern for the king’s cousin before her flurry of quickened apologies eased his disturbance. ❛ It is I you must forgive, your highness. Such beauty requires all attention, and I have been remiss. ❜  The duke swept into a low bow, ❛ Lord Clement Buckingham, madam – entirely at your service. ❜

[clemcntstafford]

monsieurwyatt‌:

    “Painfully so, and quite well observed - I have missed your intelligent remarks, which never fail to make themselves known when I am entirely off my guard. You disarm me once more, with the swiftness of your tongue.” He was a Frenchmen; a born poet, as all men of the land must be - their women possessed a magnificence that demanded exemplary displays and declarations of love. No greater mode for romance existed then the written word; too often he succumbed to the romantic notions - of romance - that he listlessly scattered across a page. “Already you demonstrate the slight of hand you possess in your vernacular; my caliber is hardly notable to many, and I shall certainly be impressed by any piece of work which has done as well, as to charms the French Court. Alas - the beauty of your words may be lost as they are muddled into my primitive language.” Although French easily deposited from his lips, he would never posses a finessed command over it, well enough to write with ease and confidence. Wyatt was disgruntled by his short-comings, but all too content in his current standing to adopt any practice in order to correct them. His attentions returned to the cards as his ears prickled in anticipation of Clement’s forthcoming conjecture - as expected, they earned a wry smile at the ends of his lips. “I often find dissatisfaction in idleness, though it would be a falsity to claim I do not enjoy myself in fruitless, or sloth ventures - much has been lived in a day dedicated to nothing. Earnestly, I would entertain you; I have not forgotten the days we lived years ago, and the pleasures which riled your senses. My artistic ventures, are entirely at your command - I would begin, with the suggestion we pick a pair of ladies for adventure.” 

                              Buckingham would never lament the number of men within the English court who subscribed to a French doctrine – though his heritage would see him lambaste Parisians and their customs, as Britons were wont to do, he rejoiced in them and held the land to a pedestal like no other for offering him refuge during a time of peripatetic instability.  ❛ If there is a swiftness to my tongue, it is matched by your cunning, sire. ❜ Monsieur Wyatt’s charms were notorious at court, and yet his honeyed words seemed almost as if a façade to Clement – a mode of concealing his thoughts and afflictions. He would commend the poet on his illusion were it not so painfully discreet; a far cry from the stony-exterior the duke sported in ill-advised company. ❛ You had me at ‘entertainment’. However, if I may suggest something – it would be to adjourn our venture until we return the court. The ladies present in such an establishment as this are exquisite, no doubt, but they are as easy to come by as the maladies that plague them as a result of their... strenuous work habits. Pray tell, surely a man of your experience warrants a higher caliber of companion to warm his chamber? ❜

[clemcntstafford]

hapsburgphillip‌:

Phillip smiled slightly. “Yes, this is not my first time in England, and I am quite certain that it will by no means be my last – my wife is very fond of her brother, and His Majesty is a most gracious, loving kinsman and host.” He paused for a moment, considering. “The heat,” he admitted. “England is a most vibrant, green country, and spring is all the more glorious for the rain – but by now, in Spain, it would be much warmer.”

                            ❛ Ah, yes. The inseparable bonds of siblings – nonetheless, I am glad to hear that this will not be your last sojourn on the isle. England stands to learn much from her allies on our soil, and the Spanish have a notable habit of making the morale livelier around here – we could all use a dose of merrymaking. Tell me, is the court of Gibraltar still as exquisite as I recall it? The stifling heat aside, of course. ❜

[clemcntstafford]

hajji-murad‌:

His attentive gaze was fixed on the goblet before him as he poured the poignant wine. “It is generally agreed that wine originated from the region, or at least near to it. My ancestors have been involved in making wines for thousands of years. The fermentation process is more similar than one may think. This is largely because of the influence and vastness of the Roman Empire, establishing many vineries across the continents and generally using similar processes. Indeed, environmental factors and the development of minor modifications over time are the key reasons for the differing tastes.”

Hajji leaned back in his chair, admiring the rich colour and body of the wine. Then he outstretched his hand, slipping the goblet into the man’s grasp as a pleasant smile graced his lips. “Do try it, and describe to me the different flavours you can taste.”

                               Seldom had Buckingham been so enthralled by a conversation that he listened eagerly to the foreigner’s shrewd disquisition without the slightest straying of his thoughts. The duke’s cerulean gaze shifted from the ambassador to the olive-hued bottle laying heavy within his grasp, its murky contents within rolling like the tempestuous seas from whence it had been imported.  He nodded expectantly, accepting the bottle and carafe before uncorking it and allowing its aromatic fragrance to pervade through the chamber.  ❛  Exquisite, simply exquisite. I had not before considered the possibility of my traveling to the Middle East; apart from our ancient Israelites I bear no ancestry there, but your delicacies are sufficient enough to convince me that I must visit posthaste.  ❜  With that, he filled two chalices and drew one to his nose,  ❛  dare I say it is a dry blend, sir ? ❜

[clemcntstafford]

lareine-eleanor‌:

Eleanor gave a soft laugh at the compliment, bowing her head. “I only pray that my beauty is less divisive,” she said, with a little laugh. She tried to picture who on earth could possibly woo her away from Francis. The thought simply didn’t make sense to her. “Please, thank you,” she said. “I hope you are having a wonderful time, Your Grace. England has certainly shown herself to be an elegant and gracious host in providing us with such a wonderful entertainment.”

                             Laughter husked between his lips in response to Eleanor’s remark. Married women seldom caused the pandemonium that unattached ladies were known to, although England’s own consort, the late Catherine of Aragon, had proven this truth unsound once or twice in her tenure as queen. ❛ I am pleased to hear such. There is little we excel at so ardently as pageantry – does it prove at all comparable to your native Austria, madam ? ❜ Directing a glance toward Eleanor, he replenished her chalice and topped his off in the process.

[clemcntstafford]

annedheilly‌:

@clemcntstafford

The courtyard at Hampton had come alive with the greatest celebration, and even Anne had to admit she was impressed as she walked, bundled in her furs against the chill. There were children dashing underfoot, couples in their finest, eager to watch the tilt. Anne herself was intrigued to watch - to see the Englishmen, judging the level of competition. So far their sport had not impressed, but her tastes had always been a bit self-centered.

That was the reason she found herself seeking out the Duke of Buckingham amongst the courtiers, and the moment she found him, she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm - familiar as she grasped the inside of his elbow and hardly noticing whatever had occupied his attention before her arrival.

“My Lord Buckingham. Rumor has it you are competing in the afternoon’s tournament. Shall I truly have the opportunity to see you at work with the lance? I fear I have not witnessed such since your last sojourn to France and I seem to remember a magnificent talent.” She smiled, a picture of warmth and grace, lashes fluttering. “Walk with me?”

                             Buckingham was not exempt from interest where the tournament was concerned although in truth, he’d attended and competed in a number of events such as this that his interest was consequently diluted. With his hands clasped neatly behind his tailcoat, Clement listened halfheartedly and remained mum to Lord Salisbury’s rather prosaic account of the feast that transpired two days past; he bore an amicable, diplomatic expression for the occasion, cementing his title as the ‘consummate’ politician, as his gaze strayed and flitted upon Anne d’Heilly’s striking beauty. Independent of the monotonous conversation he was currently shackled to, Buckingham’s cheeks tinged slightly and an earnest grin toyed upon his mouth. His lungs were soon robbed of breath once their eyes clashed and Anne’s magnificent features came into clarity as she strode across the courtyard.  Clement excused himself in a genteel manner before his footing led him toward Anne and he swiftly offered her his arm. 

❛ Most certainly I am, ❜  he assured, stealing a glance in her direction, ❛ you flatter me, Madam Étampes. I had hoped you would be amongst the observers, but now that I know you will be I shall endeavor my utmost to make an impression on you. ❜  The duke bent his head slightly to accomodate the duchess’ stature, his mouth close to the shell of her ear as he murmured smoothly,  ❛ may I add that you look particularly exquisite this afternoon ?  Saint Valentine suits you well, and yet your beauty disconcerts me until I know who it is you plan to bestow your favour upon. I cannot rest until I see us reunited once more.  ❜

[clemcntstafford]

hapsburgphillip‌:

Phillip bowed his head in the man’s direction. “You rode very well,” he said. “It was a very good show of the sport.” He offered a slight, brief smile. “Yes, of course,” he said. “England has always had a great court where events like this are crowning jewels. His Majesty take after his illustrious father in the beauty and elegance of his celebrations.”

                             ❛ I could not agree more heartily, your grace – ‘tis one of the many things I missed about Hampton during my time in France: the festivities. As the husband of His Majesty’s sister, I would hazard that you will soon come to know of our... talents, in a word, for hosting. ❜ Clement’s features cleaved into a diplomatic grin, perhaps more contrived than it ought to have been in the presence of a Habsburg. ❛ Humor me, your Grace. Is there one thing you long for in your native Spain that you fail to find on our isle ?  ❜

[clemcntstafford]

hapsburgphillip‌:

Phillip nursed nothing worse than bumps and bruises as a result of losing in the joust, but he could still feel the ache of the weight of the armor on his shoulders, his neck sore. Yet he let none of this show as he stood up straight, his posture impeccable, a glass of wine in his hand. He watched the swirl of color as the party – to be frank, he could not recall the name of the lady throwing it – before him, until he realized he had a companion. “Good evening,” he greeted, glancing over at them. “I hope you are enjoying yourself. How did you find the joust?”

                              Buckingham squared the broad width of his shoulders, chin lifted in response to the prince’s terse introduction. Likewise to his ruling counterpart, Clement was too nursing the ramifications of the brute force displayed on the gravel tiltyard some days past – although rather than sustaining injury or ailment, it was his pride that bore the brunt of his loss, and he was not too humble to consider it a minor slight. ❛ Enjoyable, save for my own defeat in the penultimate round, your grace. You would be hard pressed to hear me speak ill of such a tournament, for I very seldom miss courtly spectacles. Has the pageantry of this week lived up to your expectations thus far ? ❜

[clemcntstafford]

lareine-eleanor‌:

Eleanor, resplendent in gold and green, drifted off the dance floor as the song ended, her heart racing from the dance and her skin flushed. She loved masques and balls, and she loved the spirit of Valentine’s Day. She made her way toward a window seat, and a servant presented her with a glass of wine. Eleanor sat and took a sip, glancing around as the dancers formed another set. When she heard footsteps approaching, she looked up and smiled. “Oh, hello,” she said, adjusting the golden mask on her face. “If you would like to sit, I certainly wouldn’t mind the company.”

                     ✣  –  The lavish event paid both testament and tribute to England’s affluence – paying homage to her proudest inhabitants who surely marveled at the grandiose turn-out of the occasion, and the king himself who sat proudly upon his throne of velvet at the cavernous mouth of the ballroom. Goblets of wine ran akin to rivers of gold, music crooned in all corners of the banquet hall, and foreign delicacies were doled out so plentifully that one required the noxious strength of an elixir to continue sampling at dishes. As the night wore on, the Duke of Buckingham’s resolve only increased – it was evident that as he joined the Queen of France that he was well-within his element and relished in the current circumstances. “Indeed, there seems to be a number of courtiers in attendance that are adverse to the company, though I have no doubt that your presence is most coveted on this occasion. Helen of Troy could not hold a handle to Your Majesty’s magnificence tonight.”  He gestured to the bountiful array of liqueurs adorning a gilded smorgasbord, “another glass, your grace?”

[clemcntstafford]

monsieurwyatt‌:

       “For once, my time carries no great value - I have no waited long, nor would I have been averse to such. To be alone with my own thoughts for a sliver of an hour is an immeasurable gift - socialization is a burden I curry too often. I would be invariably pleased to be privy to your writings; what romantic fanfare have you conjured upon a page, Mounsieur Stafford? The arts have enraptured you as finely as I, but I have never known you to be a writer. As for the calls of my eager fans in the court, a midnight disappearance shall do well to quell their thirst, for the present.” Amused and playful expressions played across Wyatt’s countenance as he surveyed his partner with great mirth; he had not counted Clement Statfford as a possible opponent in a game of cards. After a bout of disgrace, he would not be keen to dabble in such activities; Wyatt regarded Clement without an air of judgement, rather a bemused admission of similarity. He had little regard for convention and reason in his own life- ruin would be at the behest of a gay time. Wyatt puckered his eyebrows as he settled once more into the large chair which swaddled him in an embrace of his Chinese silk. “I have dedicated more then a single solitary moment to the contemplation of your current status - I congratulate you on your exultation and subsequent assertion; now that you are more then a pretty face at the courts, what nefarious activities, or artistic ventures, have kept you busy?” 

                      ✣  –   Eloquent words lingered between the two men for the briefest of moments proceeding the prompt clearing of the duke’s throat, stripping his forthcoming response of any misgiving as he tipped the metallic tumbler lodged within his hand toward the bard. There was little to be lauded in terms of similarity or, hell, propinquity, between a poet and nobleman. Poets led from the heart and dukes governed from the head lest they run the risk of losing theirs, such a fate reserved for a select few of Clement’s forefathers. France was replete with characters such as Wyatt’s, whereas England egregiously lacked his vivacious, devil-may-care spirit, and for that Buckingham was obliged to have snared a moment of his time. “’Tis not merely adage but truth that absence does make the heart grow fonder – yet there exists a fine line between absence and distance, does there not?” He chuckled toward Wyatt’s harmless inquiry into his poetry, “I assure you, they are mere dabbles of interest, hardly worthy of scrutinization by a man of your caliber. They have served me well in my forays into the French court, but then my translation must be the culprit to my success.” One knee elegantly crossed over the other, he began to mingle his share of cards as amusement toyed upon well-preserved features. “As with many men driven to succeed on the political arena, my virtues are often matched by my flaws ––– one of them being the distinct lack of pleasure I allow myself in my spare time. I have no doubt that you would be able to remedy this – your... ‘artistic ventures’ are highly-regarded in court. Consider this, my invitation to any suggestions you might harbor.”

[clemcntstafford]

CLEMENT STAFFORD, DUKE OF SUFFOLK * /  Known for his theatricality, the Duke’s attire for the event is relatively subdued. The very image of elegance, he has selected to wear a becoming slate-gray doublet that hugs the lean muscles of his arms and chest complimented by a gilded livery collar, as a mark of fealty to the crown and to Europe itself, and a gray overcoat. Similarly, Clement’s mask bears a navy hue with silver and gold trimming. His hair is neatly gelled, and styled into a low-lying plait – secured by a black ribbon (not without, of course, the rat tail Clement has become famous for...).  The look is cinched by the presence of sturdy black boots and a sword sheathed at his hip. 

[clemcntstafford]

@monsieurwyatt

                            Gentlemen’s clubs were commonly regarded, especially by wives, as being locales of exotic and disreputable themes. Seedy establishments where courtiers could stand to fritter their fortunes within the span of an hour over a deck of contrived cards, whilst being lavished and attended to by ample-bosomed courtesans and an endless supply of liqueur, where decorum was cast aside amidst heated, oft perilous discussions of politics and court theatrics. And yet, as Clement would come to attest attest, such locations tended to draw a common crowd –––– the religiously reformed, staunch supporters of the king whom Clement had come to know during his numerous visits to the backwater establishment; the foreign guests, laden in gilded trappings, and English lords seeking reprieve from their spouses dotting the gambling tables Clement had resolved himself to partake in. It was evident, by dint of the mild surprise that contoured his features, that Buckingham recognized his opponent –––––––– how could he not? Women seemed to froth at the mouth at the mention of his ballads; a phenomenon entirely lost upon the duke.

“Monsieur Wyatt. I am pleased to see that you’ve managed to escape court. I can only imagine what the fanfare for a poet must be in this day and age, for I myself have only ever dabbled in the art. Have you been waiting long?” 

[clemcntstafford]

annedheilly‌:

“Well, if His Majesty were to express his displeasure himself, so vocally, I could scarcely ignore it, could I?” She smiled, teasing him - not thinking anything of the ruminations that seemed to have given Clement pause - entirely in favor of bypassing it all to keep the conversation light, banter flowing between them. “If he found a fondness for me, it would be improper - non, I think it would be rude to deny him the pleasure.” She returned the kiss, one hand smoothing along the bare skin of Clement’s arm. “You ought to consider yourself lucky that he will be so disappointed.”

Anne closed her eyes and smiled, fingertips still enjoying their journey over her bare skin until he moved away from her to instead study the pages she had been so focused on. Sighing, she tilted her head and opened her eyes once again, sitting up with the blankets held to her chest - clinging to the illusion of modesty. “My lord Stafford, you know my appreciation is reserved solely for you. I cannot say the same for other Englishmen, if only because I do not know them nearly so well. But I had thought my appreciation would be quite clear.” She paused and then moved to stand, reaching to grasp at the shift that had long since been discarded on the floor. “How much longer do you think it will be before we are freed?”

                         With the inward furrowing of his fair brow, Stafford canted his head to the side in makeshift response to Anne’s retort. Stowing his tongue between his jaw to stifle the grin that all but willed of its own accord to burgeon upon his features, he found he could not wholly veil its vestiges as it glinted within his cerulean gaze, and smoothed over the mild crease of discontent forming between his eyes. “I hazard it would not be the first time you nor I caused our kings displeasure,” the duke mocked, his brows rising into his hairline for a beat, “in any case, Henry will simply have to accept my sincerest of sympathies, for I have no intention of allowing you from my sight for the next several hours. Who else would remind me to pray?” 

In the glow of the fire –– a once blazing hearth reduced to a clod of dying embers –– his eyes raked over the illuminated words etched within Anne’s novel; halfheartedly perusing its content and absorbing its essence as the dulcet lilt of her voice dominated his senses. He lifted his consideration from the Latin text to Anne’s lithe form, observing as she drew a linen shift to her chest –– surely the demureness that enshrouded her was a trick of the light, an apparition of modesty in the wake of their sleepless festivities that ignited the ghost of a contented smile to flit and train across his lips. This, he did not attempt to restrain. “I cannot imagine it to go on in perpetuity. The king himself knows the silence is damning –– left to their own devices, the English will resort to the same barbarity as our ancestors. You must be eager to return to your quarters ––– as am I, truthfully. Nothing seems more pleasing than a tepid basin at this moment.”