Discuss the major problems faced by Henry VIII throughout his reign

Henry VIII is one of the most well known kings in English history; but why?

Henry’s story is complicated and interesting; full of ups and downs. He faced many problems in his life, and got through 6 wives!

He started life not knowing he would ever become king, let alone at the age of 18! He had an older brother, Arthur, who would become king before him; so Henry was brought up into the Catholic Church. He studied many subjects, including languages, grammar, theology, history, rhetoric, logic, philosophy, arithmetic, logic, literature, geometry, and music.

But on 2nd April 1502 Arthur died, leaving his wife, Catherine of Aragon, a widow. Henry and Catherine married, and got on quite well. Catherine bore him six children, including three sons, but all died except one daughter named Mary who was born in 1516.

As Henry desperately wanted a son, Catherine was under a lot of pressure to produce a male heir, so their relationship became worse. Henry fell in love with Anne Boleyn, the mistress of Catherine , who  was elegant and well educated. Henry asked the Pope for an annulment of his marriage. He argued that his marriage to Catherine was cursed, because the Bible said that you cannot marry your sister-in-law. The Pope denied the annulment, he didn’t want to admit he had been wrong when he had allowed their marriage in the first place. Catherine also opposed the annulment. Henry needed a solution.

In 1534 The Act of Supremacy declared Henry “the only Supreme Head in Earth of the Church of England”, and Henry divorced Catherine. Henry and Anne had a secret wedding service, and Anne soon became pregnant.
Then on 25 January 1533, they had a  second marriage in London. On 28 May 1533, Cranmer declared the marriage of Henry and Anne to be valid.

Their daughter, Elizabeth, was born in September 1533. Desperate for a son; Henry started to lose interest in Anne Boleyn. In the summer of 1534 and in January 1536, two pregnancies ended in a miscarriage. By now Henry was sure that his marriage to Anne Boleyn was cursed. Henry asked Thomas Cromwell to sort it out for him.

Anne was arrested for adultery on 2nd May 1536. This was probably pushed forward by the Catholics in Henry’s court; worried by a Protestant queen in power. She was publicly executed 19th May in the Tower of London. Shortly after, Henry married her mistress Jane Seymour.

England had spent much money on war, and Henry needed more money. He decided to target the small monasteries; sending people to check them, and to find out what was going on there. A lot of information was made up; just so they could close the buildings down. He was given authority to do this by parliament, in 1534. Once the monasteries were removed, Henry sold the land and received a lot of money in the process.

Within 24 hours of Anne’s execution, Henry VIII and Jane Seymour were betrothed, and they were married on 30th May. The strange thing was; Jane never had a proper coronation. Maybe Henry wanted to make sure she was the right Queen for him?

In early 1537 Jane became pregnant. Henry was sure this would be a son, as he felt Jane was just right for him.

A boy was born in October, and he was christened on 15th October. He was named Edward. Jane attended the christening but died 24th October, and was buried in St. Georges Chapel, Windsor Castle.

Henry VIII stayed single for two years after Jane Seymour died, mourning her probably. But Thomas Cromwell had other plans. He was thinking about Henry marrying a foreign bride.

Hans Holbein, a painter, was sent to the Court of Cleves. Hans painted the two sisters; Amelia and Anne. Thomas Cromwell told Henry about the two sisters. Henry decided to marry Anne of Cleves. On January 6th, 1540 they got married. By this time Henry was also searching for a divorce.

Anne was not very suited to the literature and art which was so loved at Henry’s court; she was brought up with domestic skills. Also; Henry did not find the real Anne (not the painting) very beautiful at all, and is said to have called her the ‘Flanders Mare’! And, at this point, Henry was become a bit interested in a woman named Catherine Howard...

Anne was clever enough not to disagree with Henry, and they divorced. Anne of Cleves was given the title of the ‘King’s Sister’ and was given property, including Hover Castle; where Anne Boleyn used to live.

Catherine Howard was the daughter of Lord Edmund Howard, who was the son of the Duke of Norfolk. She was also first cousin of Anne Boleyn.

At 19 Catherine came to the court as a lady in waiting of Anne of Cleves. She caught Henry’s attention, and they married on July 28th 1540, despite her being a Catholic. Henry was 49, and his wife was only a bit more than 19!

Catherine (no wonder!) got a bit bored with Henry, and started dating other men. Archbishop Cranmer wanted to get rid of Catherine Howard because she was a Catholic, and gathered information against her. He executed 3 of her lovers and on February 15th, 1532, Henry ordered her head to be chopped off on Tower Green, and was buried near Anne Boleyn.

By now Henry was old and ill, so it was hard finding a new wife for him. At last, a woman named Catherine Parr, who was a Church of England, came along, and she and Henry were married. She had a passion for religious study, and even began to write her own book!

But, on 28th January 1547, Henry died, and was buried beside Jane Seymour; as he had requested. In his will, Henry had told who would come to the throne after him; Edward, Mary, Elizabeth. Edward VI took the throne; and was advised by a council. Catherine Parr then left to marry another man.

Henry VIII was a great king, and overcame many problems (most including love), and sorted out many religious issues. He married 6 wives, and on average executed 120 people a month! He was definitely a great and busy king!

I think the biggest reason for all the changes in his life, and in the law of England, where to do with love. Love played such a big part in this period of history, it could probably made into a soap opera!!

Empty Morning-In memory of Edwina

Sun creeping slowly
bringing new day
light shining
eyes shimmering
empty stares
hushed voices
patted backs
the missing thing
the missing person
the missing smile
the extra tears

We all LOVE you Edwina!!!!!! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lies-Story

I am a bad girl. That’s what my mamma used to tell me. I have always been bad. Bad, bad, bad; she would say. I don’t know why, it is just how I am. Wherever I go I would somehow do something wrong. People would say I’m unlucky, but I don’t believe in luck. Unfortunately that means that I am not unlucky; I am simply bad. Bad, bad, bad.

I suppose I started being bad when my mamma died. My daddy never liked to talk about that. I think he should’ve faced up to it. He shouldn’t have kept it from me. He shouldn't have told me lies. Lies make me angry. Lies make me want to hit something. Lies make me want to hit the liar. That’s how I got put in a care home. Daddy told lies; I hit him. He told me I had to go because I was a bad girl. He got rid of me. He got someone else to look after me. He said he forgave me but I should go and live with other bad girls; I needed to be kept away from society for a while. He said he was sorry, and that he would come and get me in a year or two; but he didn’t come and get me, and he didn’t tell me how mamma died.

I became a very bad girl at the care home. I made some friends, but they taught me how to steal and how to use karate. Ruby was my best friend there. She was a bit older and had wild, frizzy, red hair. We had fun together. She made me laugh too. We called ourselves the Blood Red Twins, because we both had red hair; we even made up a little song about ourselves; the only bad thing was that she always got to choose what we did. I didn’t mind that; she had lots of great ideas; but when she wanted to run away, I didn’t know what to think.

At first I thought she was joking, it was another imaginary game or something; but she was serious. Ruby wrote out lists of things we would need, and drew maps of the home. She taught me how to throw knives, and punch really hard. On the night we left I pretended to be in a deep sleep; hoping she would let me sleep forever, and forget about our escape. Ruby didn’t forget and she woke me up with a smack round the face. I’m not sure why I thought she would let me stay; It was Ruby I was talking about. When we got out of the building and had climbed over the gates, Ruby turned and face the home. She swore and swore at it. I wondered what mamma would say to that. I stared at Ruby, quite surprised she knew so many words. Ruby looked at me as though I was utterly stupid; which I probably was, and said, “I’m glad to be outta that dump. I can live ma life like I want. I’m not gonna follow der stupid rules of dat place. Common, we gotta get goin,” and with that Ruby tugged me away into the unknown. She pulled me down an alley and stopped inside the alley was a gang of kids, about the same age as Ruby. I didn’t recognise them, but they recognised Ruby.
“Ruby?” The tallest kid looked at us; I tried to hide behind Ruby, but Ruby shoved me away. Then the kids took Ruby and hit her onto the ground. They ran away before I could get them. I knelt beside Ruby, “Are you OK? Do you know them?”
Ruby tried to sit up,but fell down again, “I used ta know them. They didn’t like me. Now day gotta me and beat me up an I am so sorry. I don’t want you to get involved. Go and getta good life.”
“Ruby,” I asked, “Did you know they were going to be here?”
“No,” Ruby smiled, “I didn’t know; life is full of surprises” Ruby laughed despite herself.
“Oh” I said, and Ruby told me to go away. She said I had a chance. A chance for what? I didn’t ask though; I was worried she’d think me stupid.

She told me to leave, and I struggled but she has always been bigger than me. I am wandering aimlessly now.

Part One

I am alone. I have no one. No one to help me. I am alone.

Wind, lots of wind; throwing the leaves around. It looks wild. I am wild. I am a wild girl, living rough. I should think I am going mad. I mean; I am not like a normal kid, like the ones in books I have found. I don’t get why anyone would want to ‘play’. If you ‘played’ you could get caught, anyway, who would you do it with? Other children just want to get the better of you, and an adult would tell you off, or smack you, or put you in a home, or lie to you; no one would be with you, no one would trust you, after all you are a wild girl. You are mucky and dirty and smelly and you are bad. You are a bad girl. You need to be kept away from society because you are bad, and you don’t know how your mamma died because Daddy wouldn’t tell you. He would shake his head or lie. Maybe he wouldn’t tell because you were bad. Because you are a bad girl.

“Girl!” The harsh voice rasps out of the darkness, “Do not trespass on my land. Come here, come back! I have a gun!”

I leap to my feet, scrambling through the hedge. My bare feet hit brambles and nettles but I run on, keeping the pain inside. I hear gun shots behind me; the man was telling the truth. Run, run, run; I tell myself, but the shots are getting louder and I am feeling faint and dizzy and I see a dustbin and hide behind it, and then it’s all dark.

Part Two

I’m awake, I’m alive. I sit up. Sunshine. It is morning. I must have slept all night. A bin? Why I here? Then I remember. I leap to my feet, is that man still here? What if he has trapped me and is going to send me to Prison, where the really bad girls go. Am I so bad I should be trapped behind bars for the rest of my life? Am I so bad that I must be got rid of?

I am alone. Relief! Though I must get moving, someone might find me here. I get up and walk aimlessly down the road. Who cares where I go? No one would care where I go. I am rubbish, I am litter, I am trash. I am a bad girl. Bad, bad, bad.

“Alone little girl?” A tall, old man with a long beard leans over me. He is quite shabby and his long, patched coat sweeps the dirty ground.
“Yes” I whisper and back off into an alley. The man follows me.
“You live on the streets, don’t you little girl?” He asks.
“Yes. And what is it to you?” I stammer.
He steps closer, “You need a job, little girl”
“I do?” I ask.
“You do” He whispers, “If you do then you can earn money and buy food”
“Really?” I ask. Who was this guy and why did he want to help?
He smiled, “I can give you a job”
There was nothing to it, I said yes.

Part Three

“Come inside,” The man croaked, and ushered me inside a dusty office. When he had sat down in a rocking chair, he slapped a pile of crinkled parchment onto the desk.
“Sit” He gestured to an old rocking chair that creaked as I sat on it.
“I can give you a job” The man leaned forward, putting his elbows on the desk; “But you must not tell anyone about your job here. Keep it utterly quiet. Mouth shut. Got that?”
Why would he say that? But I still accepted. “Ok” I mumbled.
“Good” he replied, “I am Mr. Milanne and I am a wizard”

Part Four

Ok. I had a job. I should be happy. But I don’t know how to be. I have never smiled since... I don’t know when. I try to smile but I frown. I try to laugh but a tear dribbles down my cheek. I curl up on the hard pavement and cry. For everything.

Part Five

In the morning I drag myself over to the tall, leaning building, which Mr. Milanne calls home.
Tap, tap. I pat the door with my hand. Nothing. I tap again. Still nothing. Maybe I tapped a little too lightly. I tap again; harder this time. Has Mr. Milanne turned on his word? But why would he do that? I knock again. Really hard; come on Magic Milanne guy!
“Come inside, all that knocking is giving me earache!” A harsh voice calls from inside the building.
I jump in suprise, then I push the door, finding it is open.
“Come on. I haven’t got all day girl” I follow the voice and find myself in a large chamber, with nothing but a table and Mr. Milanne in it.
“Come over” Milanne barks. I hurry across the room, echoes bouncing off the bare walls, to where Milanne is standing beside the table.
“First fill in this form. Name, age, and signature in the blanks” he stabs a sheet of paper with his hand.
“Pardon?” I ask.
“Write your name, age, and put your signature there. Simple. Go on!”
I drop the pen, “I can’t”
“Can’t? What do you mean girl?” Milanne looks up.
“I can’t do any of that Sir. I’m sorry” I try to hold the tears in, “I can’t write”
“Then tell me your name girl” he orders.
I shake my head, “I don’t know it”
“Then age. How old are you?”
“I don’t know” I whisper.
“And I guess you can’t do a signature” Milanne sighs.
I stare at the floor, feeling so stupid.
Milanne stands up tall, “I’ll give you a name then. I’ll call you Sine nomine, it means nameless in Latin”
I nod.
“This is my secret. You will keep it secret too” says Milanne and pulls a piece of cloth away from the table, revealing something I could have never imagined...

Part Six

It was like nothing I had seen before. I cannot describe what lay on the table. It’s colour was new, an unknown colour that only if you saw it could you describe it’s beauty. It was like a jewel, but shone in a weird way, lighting up the whole chamber; and now, the chamber didn’t seem bare, it felt like there was space for life. And for the first time in 13 years; I smiled.

Part Seven

“This” Milanne said, “Can take you back in time”
And from that moment on, I knew I needed that crystal.

Part Eight

“Sine nomine; I need you to test the crystal. Go back in time to the Victorians, then come straight back” Milanne told me, “Imagine the Victorians in London. Then all you have to do is imagine this jewel, to come back here. Remember, though, it only works 2 ti-”
“I know, I know!” I nodded and held the stone in my fist, and imagined the picture Mr. Milanne had shown me; and then I saw...

Part Nine

...the week just before mamma died. And I laughed. Of course I would have been taken here; this week had been on my mind since the day she died. I was in the hospital with mamma. I was reading her a story.
“...and then Jenny and Michael came home for tea. “Where have you been?” Their mother laughed, “You look as though you’ve been to the Moon and back!”. Their Mother had no idea how true that was!” I finished, smiling at mamma.
“You are a brave girl” mamma said, and then she told me the only lie I ever forgave, “You’ll get through life just fine”
Then she smiled.

Part Ten

She couldn’t talk after the week was over. On October 27th mamma died.
I wanted to see her again, so I held the strange, glowing rock in my hand, and thought of the day me and mum went to the seaside.
We played in the sea and I forgot about the future, and relaxed. I was so happy! I laughed and played and smiled. It was heaven.

Part Eleven

Years and years went by and I loved this life and I forgot about the stone which I had hidden under a stone slab in the garden.
Then one day, we got a letter that mamma was in hospital for cancer, and my world collapsed.

Part Twelve

I needed to find the jewel. I told Dad I was going to get some fresh air.
“Don’t worry, she’ll be OK” Dad smiled. LIE.
I nodded, even though I knew the truth, and ran into the garden. I lifted up the slate; saw the glimmering stone; and realised, remembering what Mr. Milanne had told me; that the jewel could only be used twice; and that I would have to re-live my life again, and again, and forever.
Now I didn’t love the stone, I hated it, and I smashed it up into little pieces, and I cried.

Story-Wytch (said like witch)-Entry 1

I am writing a story and as I write it I will post it up here. It will only be the first version and I am just doing it for fun, so do not expect much (pls note I am only 12)!!

Chapter One

“Mum” I murmur, pushing my cornflakes around my bowl, “Does Dad really hate me?”
Mum looks up, frowning, “Of course not” she says, “Why would you ever think that?”
I sigh, “He doesn’t seem to like me”
“Oh, darling!” Mum comes over, her long, patchwork skirt rushing behind her, “He loves you, he’s just had an especially hard time this year”
I look up, “But he avoids me; all the time”
Mum’s frown deepens, “Come on darling. Let’s get you to school,” she puts her arm around me and pulls me out the room, “Find your bag, and let’s go”
“Mum, I don’t need you to take me to school anymore...”
“Let’s go” Mum repeats.

I run upstairs, in a hurry to please Mum.
“Watch your step!” Dad bellows, as I bump into him.
“Sorry, Dad, sorry!” I stammer.
He slaps me round the face, “You should be sorry, little brat”
My hand flies up to my throbbing cheek. It must be bright red, “Yes, Dad” I say, and hurry round his huge beer belly, to my room.

Once inside I collapse onto my bed. I was right; Dad doesn’t care about me, in fact, I’m a bit of an inconvenience.
I put my hand on my sore face; it’s wet; I am crying. I slowly pull my head off my pillow, and look at my mirror. I look terrible. My face is pink and wet, my hair is all messed up, and my mascara is smudged; making my eye look black.
I wash off the mascara, not bothering to re-do it, and tie my hair in a plait. That should do for now.

“Elodie!” I hear Mum coming up the stairs. My heart races, I rub where my face is pink, but it just goes pinker.
Mum opens the door, “There you are!” She smiles, “Let’s go, or you’ll be late”
I nod, but don’t look at her. As we leave I make sure that she doesn’t see my bruised face.

The walk to school is silent, although Mum tries to make conversation. I remember not to show her my bruised cheek.
“Elodie, are you alright?” Mum asks, trying to peer at my face.
I look away quickly, “Fine” I grumble.
“You’re not alright, Elodie. Look at me dear” She  pulls my face to make me look at her. I gasp at the pain.
“Mum! You’re hurting me!” I yelp, hoping she’ll let go. I feel a bit mean, saying she’s hurting me, and knowing it’s really Dad’s fault I hurt.
“Am I?!” Mum leaps back, “Sorry darling. I didn’t mean to hurt you!”
I rub my cheek, “That’s OK “
Mum bends down to look at me, “Oh, sorry dear! You are cheek looks really sore, I didn’t mean to...”
I look down, “Don’t worry Mum. Come on, let’s go,” I carry on walking down the road, my face red.
“I really am sorry!” Mum calls, catching up with me.
“No, no. I’m fine Mum” I say.
“Yes, yes,” she mumbles, “Let’s get you to school”
She takes my hand and we carry on down the lane. Just then I see Marie and her gang strolling out of a side road. If she see’s me with Mum, I’ll die when she get’s hold of me.
I glance down at my watch; 7:40. I have a whole 10 minutes to get to school.
“Mum, I only have 2 minutes to get there before the bell goes,” I lie, “I’d better run”
Mum frowns, “Really? I thought we left in good time”
“I’m late though,” I say, glancing up at the approaching gang of girls, “I’ll go, and you can head home”
“Oh. OK then, that’s a pity; I was hoping we could walk all the way together,” Mum replies, “Well, you’d better be off”
I nod, “Bye!” Marie’s about to see me. I start to jog to school.
“Elodie? Aren’t you going to give me a hug?” Mum says, hurt.
“Yes, yes!” I say impatiently, sprinting back to her. I give her a quick hug and turn back round to go.
And Marie is staring right at me.
Marie and her group walk over, their expressions icy.
“Bye Elodie!” Mum smiles, “I’ll leave you and your friends to walk together”

When Mum’s gone, me and Marie, and her friends, glare at each other for what seems like hours. After ages, Marie steps forward; and slaps me. It’s right where Dad hit me this morning. I scream, as the pain shoots through me.
“That’s for being a baby,” Marie snarls, she hits me again, “And that’s for being ‘Teacher’s Pet’”
“Stop it!” I shout.
Marie smiles, “Stop? Stop what?”
“That!” I say, backing off a little.
“What? This?” Marie smirks, kicking me hard in the shins. I step back; tripping over my bag, and falling onto the concrete road. Her friends laugh.
“Yes!” I moan.
“Pardon?” Marie seems to be enjoying this, “Should I stop doing this?”
She whacks her foot into my back, and I curl up into a ball; hoping she’ll get bored and go.
“Get up, wimp!”

Poem-Winter

After the leaves have fallen

And Autumn has been swept away by the rolling mist

Winter creeps in

Sweeping it's icy glare over the land

Swaying the skeleton trees

Casting dark shadows that float over the dew

It howls mournfully in the darkness

Cries frozen, icy tears of snow

Soft white tears

That carpet the ground below

Will Summer ever come?

Will the frost ever go?

Will we be trapped in this world of snow?

The weeks last forever

Though the days are so short

And imprison us in their white hands

Covered with the thought:

Will Summer ever come?

Will the frost ever go?

Will we be trapped in this world of snow?

About Me

Hello. I am called Zuki and I am 12. Here are some facts about me:

• When I am older I want to be a film director, editor, or prop designer
• I love pandas ;)
• The Hunger Games is the best book ever!!!!!!
• I love writing...

...Which leads me to say what I will write on this blog; I will type out things I have written, and it would be lovely if you could comment on what I have done, even if you don't like it! :)

P.S. Please don't copy it; but you can use ideas if you ask me! :)