The Illegitimate Tudor

by James M Stuart

  On my right and left respectively, Belfrigh and Aeron were both battling with resilience and passion, cutting through their opponents. I looked at them for a split second and at the last moment managed to cut down another enemy soldier as he was trying to stab Belfrigh from behind. One after the other, we beat them all down with the brutality that befitted them; and so, we hastened across the city trying to make our way south.

  The City Guard’s barracks and dungeons, where we had been held captives, was situated a few miles away from the Vatican City and the pope’s own estates. I remember wondering about the pope’s safety. Undoubtedly, he could not be harmed, he had, after all, a host of soldiers under his commands. Besides who would dare defile the Church of God by committing murder in the estates of the Holy Father? Well, I should have known better…

  Men would not stop for anything and anyone to acquire wealth and power. Ambition is mankind’s greatest strength and weakness at the same time. It makes us passionate and gives us motivation, driving us towards accomplishing our goals. However, it can also lead to darker paths, for some men are never satisfied with what they already hold, and they always seek to gain more, leading them to greediness. Greed is a man’s curse. I have seen men being devoured and ultimately destroyed by their greed; pushed everyone away whilst they worked restlessly and ruthlessly, doing everything from lying, stealing to blackmailing and even murdering to meet their ends. Back then, though, I was still a bit more than a novice in the matters of human behaviour, and I certainly did not expect what proceeded our arrival in Saint Peter’s Square, in the very heart of the Catholic Church.

  The enormous white dome of Saint Peter’s Basilica was illuminated by the burning surrounding buildings. Nobody until that moment had dared to come closer to the Holy Church and I had no intention of going near it myself if it had not been for what happened next. Numerous soldiers stormed the square, so many that I could not hope to count, maybe a thousand or two, I could not tell. Those particular troops, though, did not look like the wild soldiers that had been let loose in the city; these were organised and disciplined and had come for a single purpose, to capture the pope himself…

  ‘We’ve got to do something, lads,’ Belfrigh said, as the imperial troops were closing in on Saint Peter’s Basilica. We ran across the square to hide behind the ruins of an alehouse nearby.

  ‘Jesus, Belfrigh, come to your senses,’ I said to him, still awestruck by the sight I had seen.

  ‘No, no! It’ll be all right, Ed. We take a thousand each,’ said Aeron sarcastically, wiping some blood off his face. ‘Let’s get the hell out of here whilst we still can,’ he then added, waving his blood-stained sword in his left hand.

  ‘I know, it’s hopeless,’ Belfrigh said, talking some sense at last after a long time. ‘But it’s the pope! Don’t you feel obliged to do something? To act?’

  ‘I’d no idea you were so fond of old Clement,’ Aeron said amused.

  Belfrigh grimaced without saying anything, his eyes fixed on the troops who had now formed a crescent in front of the steps of the basilica.

  ‘The pope’s got his own personal guard to protect him. I’m pretty sure he’ll be just fine,’ I said not really believing in my own words. There was no chance the pope had enough guards to repel this force of imperial troops. Nevertheless, I was trying to reassure Belfrigh, so we could get going as soon as possible, for the longer we lingered, the more perilous our situation became.

  ‘You reckon so?’ asked Belfrigh and pointed towards the basilica, where barely a hundred Swiss Guard soldiers had emerged from it and were now facing the enemy, spears extended, ready to die.

  ‘That’s all of them?’ I asked rhetorically. ‘But surely, they can’t just attack, it’s so uneven. They must negotiate. They should-’ But I did not finish my sentence, as the imperial troops did not hesitate and attacked the Swiss Guard with all their might, brutally killing every last one of them on the steps of Christianity’s greatest church. Showing no mercy, no remorse…

  It was the first time my faith in God had been shaken, for how could He have permitted that to happen to His children? How could He have allowed such a massacre to His Holy City? And most importantly on the steps of Christianity’s very foundations? Priests teach us that God loves all His children, but He must punish them for their sins. What sins though had those poor guards committed? What could have these proud men, that only wanted to protect their Holy Father, possibly done to deserve such a fate? Priests teach us that sins are cleansed through punishment and remorse, but on this occasion, I failed to see why…

  CHAPTER IV

  The Spoils of War

  The city was in ruins. The imperial troops were celebrating their victory on the streets and on some surviving alehouses, drinking themselves into unconsciousness, whilst we were in the middle of the chaos trying to escape undetected. We moved stealthily, our cloaks tightly clutched in our chests, hiding our armours with our hoods lowered down to obscure our faces as much as possible.

  Crossing through the drunk soldiers proved much easier than we had anticipated. As the hours passed and the wine or ale was being poured down their throats, they became increasingly unaware of their surroundings. Therefore, we walked through drunken companies unnoticed. All we had to do now was to remain calm and be discreet. However, there were those who were ordered to stay sober and vigilant during the night to protect the newly conquered city against any unwanted resistance.

  ‘I reckon we’ve got to retire for the night,’ said Belfrigh as we were passing by another group of drunken soldiers, who had formed a circle in a little square. In the middle of their ring, there were two unfortunate women, stripped naked and bent down on their hands and knees, their private parts exposed, whilst the soldiers were taking turns, enjoying themselves.

  ‘Why?’ I asked, but before Belfrigh had time to answer I added: ‘We cannot linger in the city, what if we get caught?’

  Belfrigh sighed heavily and looked at me in the eye, tiredness and old age getting the better of him. ‘I’m not coming with you, Ed. I’m sorry.’

  ‘What’re you talking about?’ I asked him in astonishment. ‘You can’t stay here. You’ll die. The city is lost. There are enemies everywhere. It’s over, Belfrigh…’

  ‘No!’ he said simply.

  I did not argue immediately. Instead, I stared intensely into his blue eyes, and I saw pain there. ‘Look, I sense something amiss with you since your meeting with Captain Rogers, and apparently, you made some wrong decisions in the past. But that belongs in the past, Belfrigh. You’ve got to move on and try to save your life. Live another day and try to make amends later on.’

  ‘No!’ he said again. ‘You cannot possibly understand. You cannot comprehend what I’ve done,’ he added. ‘It’s haunting me, Ed… My guilt. In my nightmares. It always comes at night, buzzing inside my head, making it impossible to forget,’ he said staring blankly at something only he could see. ‘It was all my fault…’

  I had no idea what a tortured soul my friend and captain carried, and I was surprised to hear that the pain he bore was so similar to mine. ‘Believe me, I can under- Where in Hell are you going, Aeron?’ Aeron, who at all this time had not uttered a single word, had made his way towards the rapist soldiers, drew his sword and started slaughtering them. ‘Damn it!’ I said and followed his lead, Belfrigh behind me.

  The soldiers were so surprised by our attack that we met almost no resistance at all. Some of them did not even get the chance to draw their weapons. However, what surprised me most was how brutally Aeron killed those men. By the time they realised what was happening they were all screaming in agony clutching their mutilated parts. He moved with such speed and merciless hate that I have rarely seen in my life. His rage was immeasurable, and I would have been surprised if he had not beaten them all single-handedly even if they were not drunk and sloppy.

  It was a blood-bath. One after the other they dropped dead at our swords until there was only one left, which happened
to be the cleverest one…

  ‘Drop, your weapons,’ the soldier said in Italian. ‘Or I swear to God I’ll cut the whore’s throat,’ he threatened. Within the confusion, that man had somehow managed to get hold of the one woman and restrain her. He was now holding his sword close to her throat, the blade touching her white skin, trickles of blood already visible.

  ‘Calm down, soldier,’ I spoke in Italian too.

  ‘You shall die painfully, you piece of shit,’ said Aeron provocatively in English.

  ‘Aeron shut it!’ I whispered to him. The last thing we wanted was to provoke that man into killing this innocent woman.

  ‘Let me go, and I’ll let her live,’ the soldier claimed. ‘You can have her for yourselves then, although she’s a little bit used now,’ he continued laughing and grabbed one of her large exposed tits with his free hand.

  Aeron was bidding his time restlessly, but any sudden movement and the woman would die in vain. I turned and looked at Belfrigh. He looked at me meaningfully, nodded towards my sword belt and mouthed something incomprehensible. After taking my time realising what he was proposing for me to do, I withdrew my small dagger from my belt…

  ‘Okay! Drop your weapons, guys.’ I said, mentally measuring the distance between the man opposite to us and me. Then without wasting more time, I bent my wrist and tossed the dagger towards him. It flew true and with incredible speed, almost like an arrow. It passed by the helpless woman and hit the man straight on his left eyeball, killing him instantly and splashing thick blood all over the terrified woman who screamed in fear.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Aeron spoke in Italian first.

  The two women, who were now surrounded by dead bodies, were curled on the ground, their arms around their knees trying to hide their nakedness and shame.

  ‘Don’t worry, you’re safe now,’ Aeron reassured them and took out his travelling cloak to cover the naked body of the one. I followed his example and undid my own, thus to wrap the other woman, the one I had saved.

  ‘What’s your name?’ I asked her.

  The woman stirred. She raised her head, which was covered with dark red hair and said: ‘I’m Eleanor, lord.’

  ‘I’m no lord, Eleanor. You can call me Ed!’ I said staring at her transfixed. Her face, even though it was covered in bloody cuts and bruises, was the most beautiful I had ever seen in my life. She had striking big green eyes capped with thick but otherwise elegant looking eyebrows. Her nose was small, and a little bit raised on the tip, whilst her lips were thin.

  ‘I’m Aeron and that one there is Belfrigh. What is your name, lass?’ Aeron asked the other woman.

  She hesitated, but then said: ‘I am called Agnese,’ said the second woman, who had black hair and a thinner face.

  ‘A beautiful name, Agnese!’ Aeron said and gave her his hand; she took it, and with his assistance, she rose from the ground. ‘You’re coming with us, ladies. We will protect you!’

  Belfrigh and I raised no objections, although I knew in my heart how perilous it would be to walk around a conquered city with two half-naked women alongside us. Nevertheless, we could not possibly leave them alone unprotected, for they would inevitably be raped again or possibly end up dead. The situation now though, was different, because we could not hope to escape during the night anymore, we had to hide…

  *

  Hours later we found ourselves looking for shelter in an empty shack in Southern Rome, which incidentally was not very far away from the Southern City Walls. The shack seemed to be ready to fall apart, but provided some basic protection from the chill and the drizzle of that night. It was made of wood and had a straw roof, and it consisted of a single room with two very uncomfortable straw-beds, a tiny wooden table with two chairs and an unsuccessful attempt of a bricked fireplace. The whole place stank of damp and burned wood. We settled in the five of us and like chivalrous knights we gave the two beds to the women whilst Belfrigh and Aeron sat on the two moth-eaten chairs and me on the ground next to the fireplace.

  No one spoke for some time. Maybe it was exhaustion that had finally taken over us, or perhaps it was just the fact that our company had been increased by two tortured women; so, we did them the courtesy not to speak and leave them in peace. Eleanor and Agnese were still wearing our cloaks, but we had nothing else to give them, as there were no clothes to spare. I thus went and gathered as much dry wood as I could find and attempted to light a fire to make our miserable stay in the shack warmer and somewhat more comfortable. I knew it was risky, though. Giving away our position in that way would be stupid, but I could not stand the sight of the two women shivering in the dark. They were the very definition of the spoils of war, and I wanted to do them some kindness, show them some compassion for what they had been through…

  The fire was alight after a while and provided us with a welcoming warmth. We all gathered around it in silence. At one point, I suggested to them to try and get some sleep whilst I would stay as a guard, but there was a negative murmur amongst them. Rest does not come so easily when the mind is in such distress and the stomach empty. Every one of us was looking at the depths of the flaming stumps of wood, no doubt contemplating our fates.

  Removing my armour and weapons, to feel more comfortable, I was thinking of a way to escape this hell and return to England to pursue my ambition of avenging my parents, though looking around me I slowly realised that I was as far away from achieving that goal as ever. I was trapped in a conquered city with no friends but Aeron and Belfrigh of which the latter did not wish to support me anymore. What I really needed was a powerful ally, someone who would provide me with the resources to do what I had to do. But what did I really want to do? Kill the King of England? Indeed, if he was the one responsible for my family’s massacre. Belfrigh was right, though, I would surely be caught in the attempt, or if I were to succeed, against all the odds, in murdering the king, I would be charged with High Treason and be executed.

  Therefore, my only hope to succeed in this endeavour and live to tell the tale was through the shadowy layers of conspiracy and deceit. I had to orchestrate everything whilst keeping a low profile. The king was too well protected to be assassinated. However, I could manipulate my way to his court, make the right acquaintances, infiltrate his inner circle and eventually destroy him from within. Besides, it would be far more satisfying seeing him humiliated than dead; even though, I craved to run my sword through his fat belly… I needed the right person to stir me in this direction. But who? Who would aid me and why?

  And then it hit me… It was like my brain had been illuminated by a divine source. ‘The pope!’ I said out loud in English. Some time had passed without anyone speaking, and I startled them. I now noticed that Eleanor and Agnese had eventually drifted off to sleep as had Aeron, only Belfrigh’s eyes were wide open as mine. Everyone in the room turned their heads towards me, curiosity on their gazes.

  ‘Whaa?’ said Aeron sleepily, his eyes blood-shot.

  ‘We’ve got to find the pope!’ I simply stated, more to myself than to the others.

  Pope Clement was indeed the only person that could have had the influence I required for my plan and could be proven an invaluable ally. He was the Head of the Catholic Church, which meant great wealth and resources. He was also the person whose permission King Henry would have to ask to annul his marriage with Queen Catherine and finally be free to wed his mistress, Anne Boleyn. Now, as things stood there was no chance the pope would give him such permission, as his Holy City had just been invaded by the Holy Roman Empire whose emperor was none other than the nephew of Queen Catherine. Clement would never dare challenge the emperor in that way; if he cared for his life and his city, he would have to bend to his will and wishes. The sole thing I needed now was to find the pope and earn his trust. Simple! I thought, grinning.

  ‘What are you talking about, lad?’ Belfrigh asked suspiciously.

  I took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind and arrange my thoughts. I needed Belfrigh to assist me
in this endeavour, and I firmly believed that together we could succeed. Thus, I had to search for the right words to put my plan into motion…

  Whilst I was explaining them my idea, the drizzle had switched into a heavy rain now, which was matched with strong wind, banging our roof and windows, endangering our little shelter.

  ‘That’s not even a plan, damn you,’ said Belfrigh after I had apparently poorly explained my intentions regarding the pope.

  ‘Course, it is,’ Aeron argued. ‘We just need to pass by the whole imperial army unnoticed, find out where the pope is and then befriend him and persuade him to assist us in assassinating the King of England, whilst he, the pope, is technically a captive,’ he finished with a sarcastic smirk on his face. ‘My question is, why?’.

  ‘Thank you for summarising that for me, mate,’ I said ironically and ignoring his question, then added: ‘I know it sounds mental, but you’ve got to admit, this plan is as good as it can get… Okay, we’ve got one or two little difficulties to overcome-’

  ‘That’s not even a plan,’ repeated Belfrigh, interrupting me. ‘This is an idea of a plan which has been perfectly mocked by Aeron… Little difficulties to overcome… Tut tut! We’ll be slaughtered, I’m telling ya.’

  My shoulders dropped in disappointment. I expected nothing more from Belfrigh as he was always a very realistic man and he had to be entirely sure that he would win to attempt something, which is why I had been surprised that he had initially agreed to come along with me to England. I still wondered how he was given the name Valiant. To be valiant means to take risks, be courageous and sometimes even be reckless, for warriors and knights this is something normal. Therefore, one must do great deeds to gain himself such a nickname. On the other hand, Aeron was turning out to be a younger version of Belfrigh, and I was alone in the dark, friendless, an outsider once more… Looking for the impossible revenge, that would redeem my soul.