‘’Tis what the whole of England is talking about, the king desires to divorce Queen Catherine so he can marry another woman…’ Walter had said in a hushed voice last night in the crowded alehouse. ‘He seeks to secure the future of his dynasty. He wants a son, or I should say a legitimate son…’ he said putting emphasis on the last couple words.
That last announcement startled me, choking on my ale I asked: ‘You mean to say he already has a son?’
‘Aye, a bastard son though, mind you,’ Walter confirmed taking a sip from his cup of ale. ‘You never heard of Henry FitzRoy?’ he enquired and when I shook my head, he explained. ‘Well, the king had an affair with one of the Queen’s maids-of-honour, named Elizabeth Blount…’
‘Hardly surprising,’ I said, smiling sarcastically.
‘Well, yeah,’ Walter agreed. ‘Although, this time seemed to be quite different.
‘How so?’ I asked curiously.
‘This relationship lasted far more than anyone would have anticipated… They said the king was in love, for he had never lasted so much with a mistress. So, the offspring of their love was born in 1519. The king showed great interest for his bastard, it might have been because it was finally proven that he was capable of fathering male children. Shortly, after the bastard’s birth, though, he and his mother were removed from the court. However, they were given the utmost protection and were well taken care of for the next few years…’ he paused.
‘Yes?’ I said eager to hear more.
‘Well, no one had really heard from the boy and his mother until recently. Everyone thought that the king had proved his point; he could produce healthy sons, but not by his wife, maybe he had finally found the root of his problem… And then around a week ago he made something that was remotely unexpected. He named Henry FitzRoy Duke of Richmond and Somerset.’
For a moment I could not speak, I just gapped, then I found my tongue. ‘HE GAVE HIS BASTARD SON A DUKEDOM?’ I shouted on top of my voice, my hands waving in the air. I could not believe my ears…
‘Oi,’ said one drunk from a neighbouring table. ‘Shut up!’
After giving him a nasty look, I turned back to Walter, eager to learn more. ‘Go on!’ I urged him.
Walter stirred uneasily looking sideways towards the man who had told me to stop talking. The alehouse was very busy that evening; full of drunks that would give anything for a good fight. So, naturally, he was afraid of causing any trouble to unknown places with nameless people who could even end up killing him. Certainly, Walter was no coward, but he was cautious. He knew that his small stature and rather soft characteristics of his face: his small nose, his kind smile and his tiny ears were not likely to give an impression of a tough man. Although, he tried to disguise that with a feeble beard, which in my opinion did not help his case, as it was full of grey touches and betrayed his old age. I, on the other hand, was a local lad now, tall and muscular, with numerous scars across my arms and face and had a thick black beard, which made me look even harsher and would not flinch on a pitiless threat by a common drunk. How naïve and arrogant I was!
‘Aye, he gave him a dukedom,’ he continued as though we had never been interrupted. ‘And a double one as such.’
‘Why?’ I asked simply.
‘It is widely believed, that the king is growing unease and is afraid that he will die without having fathered a legitimate son; and he is thus hasting into contingency plans,’ he said fingering the silver coins I had given him only moments before in exchange for information.
‘What’s that got to do with the succession of the throne?’ I enquired puzzled. If Henry wanted to make the bastard boy his heir, he would simply have to recognise him as his rightful heir before his daughter Mary.
‘Use your head, lad,’ said Walter, his forefinger pointing the temple on his head. ‘Henry could not just disinherit Princess Mary and legitimise a bastard son… It would cause havoc at court, and the whole kingdom as a matter of fact. You forget what I’ve told you about Queen Catherine…’
I did not answer; instead, I raised an eyebrow in question.
‘People love her!’ he said emphatically. ‘She’s very popular amongst the common folk, and that makes her a powerful figure.’
‘I still don’t see the connection of the bastard son and his dukedom with the succession of the crown…’ My mind had stopped, the strong ale had penetrated my system as it seemed, fogging my thoughts.
Walter sighed. ‘Henry would want to ease the situation first before he made a move towards legitimising his bastard. That’s why he gave him titles. So, people will learn to respect young Henry FitzRoy from a young age. Now should his plan of getting himself a new wife and in extension, a potential male heir fails, then I believe he would proceed with his contingency plan of making FitzRoy his successor.’
‘He would disinherit his daughter for a bastard son he hardly knows?’ I asked naturally, although my own words hurt for speaking them out loud. My true father, King Henry VII had taken care of my future, even though he did not know me, even though he had other sons, legitimate ones. His successor, though, the current king and my half-brother, seemed to only care of his bastard because he was a male offspring, and did not give a damn about his elder daughter Mary; apparently, he considered her weak and incapable of continuing his bloody dynasty. With that in mind, it looked like my mother’s suspicions had some basis, Henry might have sent men to kill me and remove another obstacle from his line of succession.
‘Unless his daughter springs a prick and a pair of balls out of nowhere, he will do exactly that with no hesitation, I believe,’ Walter confirmed and drained his cup of ale with one big gulp. ‘It is also the matter that Queen Catherine is getting old, and they say the royal couple sleeps in separate bedchambers, nowadays. ‘Tis also said that the king hasn’t humped her for many a year. Always looking for a younger company to warm his bed. But this time…’ he paused suddenly.
‘What’s the matter?’ I asked. ‘Carry on.’
‘Well, to be honest, Ed, I’ve already said more than you’ve paid for…’ he explained raising his shoulders apologetically.
‘Bugger you, Walter,’ I said and extracted my purse from the inside of my hard-earned red velvet doublet. ‘You’ve skinned me ye know,’ but I gave him another couple of silver coins.
‘Cheers, mate!’ Walter said grinning. ‘Business is business!’ he pocketed the money. ‘So, as I was saying,’ he resumed with a rather more hushed voice now. ‘This time the king seems to have found one woman that has driven him mad, even more than Elizabeth Blount. My sources tell me that she has seduced him and she’s now manipulating him to improve the state of her family and ultimately marry her and making her his new queen.’
I was left awestruck. It was one thing for the king to seek divorce because he thought his wife and queen was incapable of granting him a male heir, but to be driven and manipulated by a mere mistress? Now that I had all the information on the table I could see that a possible explanation was that King Henry was doing the bidding of a mistress. This case was not just about securing a male heir, but it was also for obtaining a fresh plum for his noble prick.
‘What’s her name?’ I asked eventually after my deep contemplation.
‘Anne.’
‘Just Anne?’
‘You might have heard her family name,’ Walter smiled conspiratorially. ‘Boleyn!’
‘DAMN!’ I shouted again.
‘I told you to keep your fucking voice down, arsehole,’ it was the same man from the table next to us who was apparently very easily irritated by raised voices in an alehouse full of drunk people.
I ignored him completely this time and spoke to Walter again. ‘How in God’s name did you come to know all these?’
‘Don’t you mind that, I’ve got my sources,’ he responded swiftly.
‘You seem to have the knowledge of such exquisite and sensitive information, though,’ I remarked. ‘I don’t reckon you can hear these stories in a local a
lehouse in London,’ I claimed, looking at him with suspicion.
‘You pay for information, and you get it, Ed. Now, where it’s coming from is nothing of your concern nor should it be,’ Walter replied sternly.
‘All right, all right! Maybe, it shouldn’t concern me as long as I learn what I need to,’ I concurred. If only I knew better…
We ordered another couple of ales and eased our conversation away from England and into Italy’s main concern, the increasing tension the Holy Roman Empire was pressing upon Europe. Emperor Charles V, who was also the King of Spain, was becoming dangerously powerful. However, my mind could not be stirred away from home so easily. At that moment, I could think only of England and my infidel half-brother. ‘Tell me something else, Walter,’ I started casually; I did not want to provoke another payment for what might be an extra piece of information.
‘Hmm?’ murmured Walter absent-mindedly, he was flushed from drinking, now.
‘How is King Henry going to present his case to the people? I mean what’s his excuse for wanting a divorce? Surely, he cannot tell the world that he wants to hump a younger woman, can he?’ I asked and took a large sip of ale.
In the table next to us, they seemed to have started a drinking game, as the company of men, including the easily-annoyed one, were shouting and downing whole cups of ale in an instant.
‘Hahaha,’ Walter started laughing. ‘That’s the best part, Ed. Listen, listen…’ he said but could not continue as he seemed to be absorbed by hysterical laughter.
‘Put it together, mate and tell me already,’ I said firmly.
‘OK, OK!’ he took a large gulp, burped unnecessarily loud and spoke again. ‘So, King Henry says that he has a guilty conscience, as he married the woman of his deceased brother Arthur. You know Catherine was married to Prince Arthur, who was then the heir of King Henry the Seventh, but Arthur died unexpectedly shortly after their marriage, and thus Catherine was betrothed and eventually married King Henry the Seventh’s other son, our current king. It is said that the marriage of Catherine with Arthur was never consummated and therefore she was still a virgin when she married Henry. However, the king has come to realise that his queen and wife might be lying, as she has provided him with no male heir. Thus, he believes he’s cursed. His claim is justified by the Bible. Apparently, it says somewhere that it is an impurity for a man to take his brother’s wife as his bride, and if he does, then they shall remain childless. Therefore, he has led himself to believe that he’s doing a good deed, a Christian deed, to cleanse his soul from the sin of having married his brother’s widow.’
‘But they’re not childless, they’ve got Mary,’ I argued.
‘A female child is not measured equally to a male one,’ Walter responded. ‘And in King Henry’s mind, Mary doesn’t count at all.’
‘I see. And how exactly is he planning to get a divorce?’ I asked the question I should have asked from the beginning.
‘I’m sorry, Ed. I misspoke earlier,’ said Walter. ‘The king doesn’t seek a divorce, he seeks an annulment of marriage, a cancellation in other words.’
‘What’s he need to do to achieve that? Doesn’t sound easy,’ I said without really knowing why it would not be easy for a king, and then I got my answer.
‘He requires permission from the pope himself,’ Walter said. ‘He has given Cardinal Wolsey instructions to persuade the pope in his favour.’
It was my turn to laugh. The pope would never concur to this, it would be against Catholicism, and Wolsey being cardinal or not he did not have such a significant influence beyond England. ‘All right, I see. So, he’ll never get his annulment by the pope. But then what?’
‘’Tis war, Ed, undoubtedly!’ Walter responded dramatically.
‘War against the pope?’ I wondered out loud. ‘I doubt even the King of England would have the courage to do that…’
‘Luther has it.’ Walter said simply.
‘Luther opposes the pope in theological matters, this is political,’ I argued.
‘Just mark my words, Martin Luther has made a start. For some folks, the Catholic Church is seen as oppressive, unfair and most of all, corrupt. Luther has offered a different path towards God and he’s gaining followers faster than any of us would have fathomed,’ Walter continued arguing, his voice so low that I had to bend my head towards him to hear what he was saying.
‘This is a bit irrelevant, though, isn’t it?’ I said confused and ever more suspicious, Walter seemed to know more than he was willing to share with me.
‘How so?’
‘You said that war would come if the pope does not agree to give King Henry his annulment, and then you mentioned Martin Luther? What is this, Walter?’ I enquired full of curiosity. Was it possible that there was a correlation between these two men, King Henry and Luther?
‘Listen, Ed…’ Walter started, and I was expecting him to demand more coin for additional information. However, he stopped talking, for something else had drawn his attention. He made a rapid movement and withdrew a small dagger from its scabbard whilst shouting: ‘ED, DUCK!’
I had no idea what was coming to me, all I knew was that it could not be good, and thus on the last moment, I ducked and felt the slicing of steel had missed my head for mere inches. I turned around looking for my attacker whilst drawing Defier at the same time. I came across with an enormous man, at least six and a half feet tall, whose face was obscured by a helmet with lowered visor and was waving a massive double-headed axe.
Many in the alehouse started screaming. Panic began, most people made for the exit, whilst others closer to the scene, withdrew in the direction of the walls or hid under tables, seeking cover. Very few of that night’s customers had any weapon with them, and those who did seemed unwilling to aid me against the giant I was coming up against. So, it was down to Walter and me… Well, only me actually!
The man moved aggressively towards me and waved his axe. I jumped swiftly to my left, and his axe landed where I was sitting only moments ago, leaving the chair to pieces, broken wood flying in every direction. I took a step back and raised my head, measuring my opponent, he looked like an experienced warrior and whilst I was certainly not an amateur, if I were to be realistic I would have to admit that this man could crash me comfortably in single combat. Therefore, if my weapons or my experience were not my advantages, then I would have to use my wits to defeat this brute.
My trainer back in York had a piece of straightforward advice when it came to tricky situations similar to this one: ‘Use their strength and size against them, lad!’ he used to say.
I had to tire him, both physically and mentally…
I gripped my sword with such intensity that my hand felt numb and started walking around the tables whilst staring at the only part that was visible on his face, his cold black eyes. The place stood still now, no one was screaming, talking or moving, they all seemed to be holding their breaths and watching us. Whilst at first, they looked terrified, now there was a change in their expression, it was hunger, eagerness, and anticipation. We were to provide their entertainment for the night, and some people were even betting for the outcome of the fight.
The assassin looked at me, waiting for my move, but I was merely pacing between and around the tables, testing his patience. ‘Who sent you?’ I spoke suddenly, startling nearly everyone in the room. No answer came from the stranger, he just looked at me. ‘That was not honourable what you tried to do there,’ said I the most honest man in the world. ‘Sneaking behind me unseen and attempting to murder me without my knowing?’ I was teasing him, trying to provoke his anger, make him speak or maybe do something rash that would give me an advantage. ‘That is the work of a coward!’ I said louder now, and murmurs broke around us.
The stranger extended his arms, welcoming a fight, like saying that now we faced each other equally, and then he spoke: ‘You’re the one hiding behind tables!’ He had a deep and harsh voice.
‘Oh, so you can talk?’ I said sarca
stically. ‘Tell me then, who sent you?’
No response.
‘Tell me, and I may decide not to slaughter you like a pig, but spare your life,’ I said boldly, although I hardly believed I could. My eyes were half-looking at his enormous axe; one well-targeted swing of it and I would be dead in an instant.
‘Hahaha,’ he laughed coldly. ‘Like you could, you slime.’
‘Listen, you piece of shit-’ I did not get a chance to finish my swearing. In an unexpected move, the man had thrown his axe at me with such force that had my reflexes not been so responsive it would have surely split my head in half. I thrust myself down, my knees hitting with great force on the hard, wooden floor. I crawled under the table whilst the man ran at me, now holding a silver dagger. Before he had time to use it though, I had the chance to utilise my longsword and so I pierced him directly on the crotch, splashing my face with thick blood and filling everyone’s ears with terrible screams.
The assassin fell on his knees wailing and grabbing the spot where his bollocks had been. I stood holding my bloody sword and placed it on his neck. ‘WHO SENT YOU?’ I asked for the third time. I came closer to him and took off his helmet. A man around my age was revealed with thick black eyebrows, matching eyes, and an unkempt, dirty stubble. I did not recognise him. ‘Who the hell are you?’
‘Your judgement!’ he said, and I slit his throat…
After the body was removed and was thrown out on the muddy, rainy street, everyone congratulated me for my skill and gut, but there was one person who had understood my horror when I had heard the last words of the assassin, Walter. He had seen in my eyes that something was amiss. Of course, Walter did not know who I really was, but after that incident, he seemed confident that I was hiding something, that I was not the one I was claiming to be. He never asked, though. Instead, he did something he had never done before, he bought me a drink.
The rest of the night I can hardly remember, as the drinking did not stop until the early hours of the morrow, I wanted to swallow my pain, to forget the words the assassin had spoken, for he had echoed my own thoughts, my guilty conscience for the massacre of my family…
The Illegitimate Tudor Page 4