If the king looked displeased and annoyed at her presence, for no doubt he would have wished to have his mistress on his side, it was nothing of what the queen looked like. Her misery was all over her pale round face, and her black eyes looked depressed. The only tone of happiness upon her was her beautiful blue and black dress and her shining jewels on her neck, fingers and brow.
‘I have a gift for Your Majesty,’ I pronounced loudly. On the king’s left-hand-side was Cardinal Wolsey and next to him Cardinal Campeggio; they both looked at me suspiciously, as did Queen Catherine. Certainly, gifts were customary in these occasions, especially if the king was your host, but Cardinal Campeggio had already presented the king with his gift, which was a very expensive looking golden cross, and everyone had thus believed that that was intended to be on my behalf too.
‘Another gift from the Campeggio family?’ the king said turning to look at Cardinal Campeggio. ‘I’m flattered, Edward. What is it then? Show me!’ he said eagerly.
I obeyed. I traced my hand through my pocket and extracted a small wooden box. It contained a thick silver chain, with the Tudor Rose at its end. ‘I had it made for you, Your Majesty. ’Tis the work of the best jewellers in the city.’
King Henry rose from his high-chair and grinned at me. ‘You’re most generous and gracious, Edward. I intend to honour you for that,’ he claimed and walked down to me. ‘Squire fetch my sword!’ he commanded and almost immediately a man a few years younger than me brought to him a longsword so beautiful that it would surely be a sin to use in battle and one might as well decorate their wall with it. It was silvery steel with a golden crossguard and a grip of gold-wire and black leather, its pommel, though, was its most prominent part, with a highly detailed golden rose.
‘Kneel!’ the king commanded me, and so I did. ‘Eduardo Campeggio, with the power invested in me as King of England and France and Lord of Ireland, I knight thee,’ he said placing the flat of his sword from my left shoulder to the right, ‘Sir Edward! Arise, sir and look upon this world with noble eyes!’
When I stood the world indeed looked different, for I was a knight now, my childhood dream had been realised, even in this paradoxical way. The king began clapping and soon the whole room was applauding me… me, the bastard. I turned my gaze towards Eleanor, Aeron and Belfrigh, who all smiled at me and seemed to be clapping the hardest.
Then the king embraced me and whispered in my ear so only I could listen to him: ‘I have great plans for you, Sir Edward; if you’d only prove your allegiance to me.’
I inclined my head in acceptance of what he had said and withdrew to take my seat next to Cardinal Campeggio. Whilst the feast resumed, a truth was starting dawning at me, that whatever happened, for good or for evil there was no escape from the king now, for I was bound to him and his cause…
Once seated on the high-table, many noblemen arrived to pay their respects and make their acquaintances with me. The most distinguished one was none other than the elder brother of Belfrigh, Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Howard, who was all this time sitting on the king’s right-hand-side, next to the Duke of Suffolk, Charles Brandon. Norfolk had not just approached to congratulate me, though… He motioned to me to follow him far away from Campeggio’s ear with the excuse that he wanted to show me around.
‘I don’t know whether you’re aware of how things are run here in England, Sir Edward,’ he said and waited for my response. He had almost shoulder length black hair and was clean-shaved, had a crooked nose and a pointy chin.
‘Eh, I’m still learning, Your Grace,’ I responded. Behind him, the two cardinals had fixed their eyes upon us.
‘Well, since you’re now a knight, you’ve got some responsibilities here at court. Your opinion matters and you need to build your reputation if you possess the ambition to go higher.’
‘Your Grace?’
‘I can assist you with that!’ He was the most direct than any other man I had met so far at court; that made him look overconfident on the limits of arrogance, for he apparently thought he could intimidate me. However, I needed to know my friends and enemies alike thoroughly.
‘I thank you, my lord,’ I answered without accepting or rejecting his proposal to be his man.
He smirked. ‘A piece of advice, Sir Edward. Be careful with whom you side, for some men in this court are close to their undoing and eventual downfall,’ he said gazing towards Wolsey’s direction. ‘Enjoy the rest of the festivities!’ he raised his goblet and then left.
The rest of the evening was not at all uneventful. The food and the limitless supply of wine, ale and beer resulted in the habitual drunkenness. Twice the guards had to intervene when some men had gotten beyond their limits. On the first occasion, two men drew their daggers and tried to stab each other for the favour of a woman. The second one, which was undoubtedly more serious, a group of gentlemen disagreed rather too loudly on the matter of whether Anne Boleyn was still a virgin as she claimed to be or ‘spoiled’ as some people claimed. Both incidents ended peacefully by throwing the disturbers out of the palace. Although, the ones who had spoken ill about Lady Anne, I later heard that had been beaten bloody by the king’s men.
‘’Tis rather queer that there's such ignorance in this world,’ said a man’s voice behind me. ‘Surely the king would not interest himself nor would he pursue to such length a molested woman.’
‘Well, clearly opinions are divided,’ I said staring with interest at the stranger, but when he narrowed his eyes, I added: ‘Alas, ignorance is common in our times. Sir?’
‘Forgive me, Sir Edward. We’ve not been formally introduced. I’m Sir Thomas Boleyn, Earl of Wiltshire,’ the man said bowing politely. He stood half a head below me, yet his presence was rather formidable. Then his gaze was distracted by Eleanor. He stroked his dark brown beard. ‘And who might you be, my lady?
‘’Tis a pleasure to meet you, Sir Thomas!’ I said offering my courtesies in return. ‘May I present to you, Lady Eleanor.’
‘Your beauty is unprecedented, my lady,’ Boleyn said kissing her hand. ‘Are you new to court?’
‘Indeed, I am, my lord,’ Eleanor replied blushing.
‘You’ve got yourself a jewel here, Sir Edward. Guard it well!’
‘I will do, my lord. Rest assured,’ I responded through greeted teeth. For some reason, this man repulsed me.
‘I believe congratulations are in order. For your knighthood, I mean,’ Boleyn said raising his goblet and I mimicked him. ‘I’m curious, though,’ he continued after he had sipped some of his wine, ‘how a cardinal’s son, who by custom is doomed to follow his father in the ranks of the Church, aspires himself to be a night in the King of England’s service.’
‘Well, customs are not always to be followed. Oftentimes, a man must evade them, for the sake of his progress in this world,’ I answered enigmatically.
‘I see! Yet there’s plenty of progress in a man’s ecclesiastical career. One could even become pope,’ he countered.
‘It depends what he desires, my lord.’
Boleyn smirked and took another sip from his goblet. ‘Enjoy the rest of your evening, Sir Edward. My lady. I trust I shall see you again soon,’ he said and departed.
‘Was that-?’ Eleanor started.
‘Anne Boleyn’s father?’ I completed her question. ‘Yes! The man who’s rumoured to be behind his daughter’s sudden elevation. He’s a potential enemy as you witnessed yourself. A very dangerous man, indeed. Along with Belfrigh’s brother, the Duke of Norfolk.’
‘What are you planning to do?’ Eleanor asked.
‘Something that I hope not to regret in the future,’ I answered sceptically. For the moment, I was the sheep amongst the wolves, and I had to do everything to survive and in order to achieve that I had to side with their leader, who was none other than the king himself, and so I would do his bidding.
CHAPTER VIII
Fall from Grace
The new year brought even colder weather to the capital; high winds a
nd snow swept the city, which kept the court constantly in the halls of the palaces, avoiding the frozen courtyards and gardens. The king though was not hesitant at all to continue with his habits and one particularly cold morrow he organised a hunting trip to the country where I was invited as a guest. He seemed to have taken a liking in me or maybe it was because I was supposed to be the son of Cardinal Campeggio, who incidentally, spent most of his time confided in his chamber and dining in private.
The sun was shining that day, and the wind was less ravaging, though the chill would crash one’s bones without the appropriate clothing. We rode in a small company; the king always took a select group of hunting companions with him. That day I was one of them, along with the Duke of Suffolk and to my great dismay the Lady Anne Boleyn. With us rode a dozen of the king’s personal guards, ever so vigilant for potential threats upon the king’s royal person. Two of them were holding flags with the King’s Arms, whilst the rest were armed with spears and bows. Furthermore, half a dozen servants were accompanying us, each one with a boarhound on a leash.
Our trip was short, we travelled just a few miles north of Whitehall Palace. The houses were less dense in this part of London and the open country was ahead of us. The king was a great enthusiast of hunting, and he showed great passion, throwing his spear to wild boars and deer with malice. He was a predator, that was obvious. I, on the other hand, was an absolute novice on the sport; I did not know how to throw a spear, as I had always preferred swords.
‘There goes another one! KILL IT!’ King Henry screamed when another young deer passed ahead of us. He tossed his spear but narrowly missed. Then I took my chance I grabbed my own spear and with as much strength as I could muster, extended my arm and let it fly… ‘Spectacular, Sir Edward! You’re a natural!’ the king excelled, as I had hit the deer on its head, crashing his brains. ‘Men, take it away! It’ll be part of our supper tonight,’ he said and laughed out loud.
‘Majesty, let’s take a brief rest now, shall we?’ said the Duke of Suffolk who had caught up with us. ‘We’ve got enough of them already.’
‘His Grace is getting old,’ the king jested. ‘Ah, Charles, indeed we are not so young anymore, but every time I come here, I find my old self. During the early years of my reign, we used to hunt all day, until darkness would make our prey invisible in the woods.’
‘Henry, I’m tired too, for I’m a woman,’ said Anne Boleyn with a sardonic smile directed at me. ‘Let’s find ourselves a clearing and have dinner.
‘As my lady commands, then. I’m always your most humble and obedient servant,’ he exaggerated, and the then leaned to kiss her on the cheek. ‘What say you, Sir Edward? Shall we rest, or is your blood boiling for more kills?’
‘I shall agree with the Lady Anne and the Duke, Your Majesty. We’ve been riding for hours, and my legs are incredibly sore; I would not be able to sit properly for days,’ I joked.
‘So be it, then,’ said the king and commanded his party to move a little to the south and outside of the forest to find a clearing to rest.
Once we found our ideal spot, a clearing of woods just a short distance off a local farmstead, the servants got to work immediately and created a small camp that resembled nothing of the ones I had been in the past. It was a camp fit for a king, with an abundance of comfortable cushions and blankets that were set upon the ground. The servants had also brought an excessive amount of wine with them, as for the meat, that we had provided with our fresh kills. A great fire was lit in our midst, and before long one of the wild boars we had caught was skinned and then skewered to be spit-roasted. The wine was also abundant, and we drank to our hearts’ content.
The king was seated on one side with his mistress kissing her or whispering in her ear, whilst on the other side, I was sitting with the Duke of Suffolk conversing about politics.
‘This country requires stability, above all else,’ Suffolk was saying to me in a low voice. ‘Nothing would have a more immediate impact than the king’s potential male heir, for nobody wishes to go back to the turbulent times of civil war. His Majesty’s father, Henry the Seventh, fought hard to establish his dynasty as the Royal House of England and our king must do the same. There are always those with treacherous hearts that silently still support the Plantagenets, and if the king should die without a male heir, these traitors will remain silent no more.’
‘I understand the possible implications, Your Grace,’ I answered, thinking of my father. ‘I would like to assure you that I’m doing everything in my power to encourage the cardinal towards our preferable direction.’
‘My father was a great man, Sir Edward,’ King Henry spoke suddenly, apparently, he had been listening to our every word. ‘A valiant man, who killed the tyrant Richard the Third in battle and brought peace back to this realm. However, as my Duke of Suffolk here very accurately states, there are still supporters of the old royal family and believe me, the Plantagenets are biding their time, but we shall not permit them to rise against us, nor shall we give them an excuse to do so.’
‘Your Majesty, surely their support is frail and small,’ I guessed, although I had no knowledge of the matter.
‘It might be now, yes, but my father used to tell me that treason could arise in unexpected ways, and given the opportunity and the right person, it could be hazardous. Even a young child with a treacherous heart could one day grow to a man that could lead thousands of troops under his banner,’ the king argued whilst giving another kiss to his beloved mistress. ‘My first duty is to protect this dynasty, Sir Edward. ’Tis my heritage from my father; my blessing and my curse.’
’Tis mine too! I thought. But what could this ignorant of a man know about being cursed? He was a king, whereas I was a bastard. Is that why he had killed my family? Or had he? Maybe the one responsible was not the king, but someone almost equally powerful that had wanted to clear the path for the king’s legitimate heirs...
‘A toast then!’ Suffolk exclaimed and raised his goblet. ‘To your father, Your Majesty, the most noble prince that walked this Earth. I’m sure he would be proud of seeing you protecting your heritage with such passion and determination.’ He smiled and then added: ‘To Henry the Seventh and the Tudors!’ We all mimicked him and sipped some wine.
Lady Anne had not said anything regarding the matter. I was certain that she would love to be the one who gave King Henry his precious male heir and establish the Tudor dynasty for another generation. However, I doubted that that was her only goal. She seemed a malicious woman, too smart and educated, thus always opinionated. Her words were only for the king’s ear, though, to manipulate him and drive him towards a direction she favoured. Alas, I reckoned she would have to be my ally, for I needed to be rid of Wolsey and his influence and it was known that she despised the cardinal. Most of all, though, I had to please the king in order to be in his good graces.
‘Enough with this now,’ the king said after a while. ‘Let’s resume our game. I trust there is much prey to be caught before the eve.
It took a considerable amount of time to pack everything and get back on our horses to leave, by which time some people from the local farm had appeared close to our clearing, one older man, a younger one who I presumed was his son and a little girl, his daughter. Nobody paid attention to them, after all, it was typical for the ordinary folk to desire a glimpse of their sovereign. However, after the king gave one last passionate kiss to Lady Anne before he helped her to mount her horse, the older man shouted: ‘GO BACK TO YOUR WIFE, YOU ADULTERER!’
The king looked at him with eyes that burned with fire, but did not say anything, he seemed ready to draw his own sword and run it through the poor man that had only spoken the truth. The Duke of Suffolk foreseeing the potential danger, made a notion to the guards and four of them dispatched from our party and went to apprehend the old man who had dared insult the king’s royal person.
This is the way of this world. This could be considered tyranny; the commoners have no freedom of speech.
Surely the man had been foolish to insult the king in his face, but at the same time if the king were as noble and gracious as he claimed to be, he would have ignored him, but he had wounded his pride, and that could not have been left unpunished…
That evening, after we had returned from the hunting and we boasted three wild boars and two deer as our killings, Cardinal Campeggio came to find me.
‘May I speak to my son in private, Your Majesty?’ Campeggio asked permission from the king.
‘But of course, Your Eminence,’ King Henry answered, dismounting from his horse. ‘I shall expect you in my privy chamber for supper, Sir Edward. Do not be late, for I am ravishing. I should like to taste our prizes before long,’ he said grinning.
‘I will be there on time, Your Majesty. And I thank you for this highly entertaining hunting trip.’ I bowed my head. Once he was away from earshot, I turned to Campeggio. ‘What is it you want with me, Your Eminence?’ I asked wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my right hand, for even though it was freezing cold, the riding had made me quite warm.
All around us, the courtyard was covered in soft unmolested snow, except the path from where we had come, which was dirtied by the horses’ hooves.
The cardinal had covered himself in a furred coat to guard him against the chill. ‘I want you to contain yourself and behave appropriately,’ he said firmly and sniffed awkwardly. He looked exhausted, and his nose was red.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I asked, and then remembering my manners added, ‘Your Eminence?’
‘It means that you have come too close to the king, which I deem it unwise,’ he responded with scorn.
‘Why, I thought that was our purpose here in London, to be close to him and influence his decisions,’ I countered reminding him of his own initial arguments.
‘Yes, but you have befriended him, Edward. Whatever happened to that angry man that wanted to oppose the tyrannical king and bring him back to the path of our Holy Church?’
The Illegitimate Tudor Page 17