The Illegitimate Tudor

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The Illegitimate Tudor Page 21

by James M Stuart


  ‘Stop! I’m tired, and I can’t see where we’re going,’ Aeron shouted to be heard through the incredible noise of the rain.

  ‘Let’s just leave the fish, they must be destroyed by now, anyway,’ I yelled back, pointing at the soaked cart. I could now barely distinguish his silhouette.

  ‘It’s just bloody fish, Ed! They used to live in the sea, you know. They’ll be fine. I’ll just need to salt them again, afterwards.’

  ‘Aeron, we’ll drown!’ I extended my arms into the air. I had never experienced such intense raindrop in my entire life, even the storm on the night Rome had been sacked was nothing compared to this. I looked ahead of me again and could not see the road at all. When I turned back to speak to Aeron, he had disappeared. ‘AERON!’ I called, but he never answered. I ran towards him, splashing my way through the muddy ground and found him on the feet of an unknown armed man dressed in black and wearing a mask that covered his face completely. He was holding a bloody longsword. Aeron was not moving, and a red stain was spreading over his shirt on his chest.

  ‘It’s your turn now, bastard!’ said the man in a cold voice. ‘Let’s dance!’

  We did not dance for long, for my rage was beyond me, and even in this state, the stranger could not possibly hope to defeat me. With an agile move, I unsheathed Defier and approached him. He slashed under my belly, but I parried him. I went straight to his head, but he blocked me. Our swords clashed repeatedly, whilst all around us, it seemed like the Apocalypse would occur. Then he cut me on my left upper arm, slicing through my fur, but I did not feel anything. In the end, I yelled a battle cry and slashed him vertically on the head, almost splitting it in half. I should have kept him alive, but I could not think straight.

  When I kneeled next to Aeron, it was too late. He was cold with death, and his spirit had left his body…

  *

  ‘My friend was MURDERED in cold blood!’ I screamed at the king. ‘I DEMAND justice!’

  Such was my grief and anger that I dared telling the king about the incident. I was sick of hiding and speculating, if the king were responsible for this he would surely show signs of being guilty. After all, King Henry was known to make no secret of his emotions. However, why would he send someone to murder Aeron and me in the streets of London, whilst he had me at his mercy day and night? Maybe he wished to make it look like an accident! A voice said in my head.

  ‘What is this, Sir Edward?’ the king asked equally angry. We were in the hearing room, the next day of the incident. Even though, as a Gentleman of the Privy Chamber I was in the king’s presence ever so often, if I wanted to address him for an official matter I had to request an audience, and so I had. ‘You are addressing your KING! You shall not make any demands on me,’ he said pointing his finger at me.

  At that moment, I wanted to attack him and severe his face with my two bare hands, but I kept my temper and said instead, ‘Majesty, apologies! I meant no offence to your royal person. I’m deranged by the grief of loss.’ I bowed respectfully, my heart beating against my chest.

  The king chuckled. He was seated upon his throne most arrogantly, with his right leg over its one arm. Dressed in a magnificent black and white jerkin, with a golden chain around his neck and rings on his fingers, he looked as majestic as ever.

  ‘And who was that friend of yours?’ he asked.

  ‘He was a Welsh archer, Your Majesty,’ I replied fearing now that this would trigger further unwanted questions.

  ‘Is that so?’ the king said frowning. ‘Because my sources tell me that he was a fishmonger. And what would a Gentleman of the Privy Chamber be doing in the company of a fisherman?’

  So, he did know. Was that proof that he had orchestrated Aeron’s murder?

  ‘Majesty, forgive me when you say your sources? Who exactly do you mean?’

  The king looked at me in contempt and made a notion to a servant, who immediately exited the chamber and returned mere seconds later accompanied by none other than Belfrigh. ‘Let me present to you, Sir John Howard!’

  I was awestruck by this turn of events. What in Devil’s Hell had Belfrigh got to do with this?

  ‘Sir Edward!’ Belfrigh said, who looked very different. He was now clean-shaved, something that made him look at least five years younger, and he had also cut his hair short. He wore a blue doublet and high brown boots.

  ‘Belfrigh?’ I said without thinking.

  ‘Oh, yes, I quite forgot you two were acquainted. After all, you came here from Rome together, along with that Welsh fishmonger,’ the king said, and I suspected a trap. Had Belfrigh told the king of my true identity? ‘I tell you this, Sir Edward, being the son of Cardinal Lorenzo Campeggio ranks you almost as a highborn. Sir John, here is a member of a noble family with royal blood. However, your Welsh friend was a commoner, and you had no business being associated with him, especially because he was an outlaw,’ he stated loudly and clearly, something that indicated he would not tolerate any objections on the matter.

  He then stood up from his throne and approached me. ‘I do not know had happened with your friend, Sir Edward; who killed him and why. But it does not concern me. And I believe it was an opportunity for you to stay away from the streets of London and focus here at your real job, which is to attend ON ME!’

  At that point, I hated him more than ever. The way he had dismissed Aeron’s troubled past by the fact that he had been born a commoner, was outrageous. Such was the king, though and I had to shut my mouth and endure him if I was to keep my head upon my shoulders. One thing was certain, though, the king did not seem to have a hand in Aeron’s murder, for if he had, I believed he would have revealed it now without hesitation.

  Belfrigh neared me from behind and put a hand on my shoulders. ‘Majesty, I’m sure that Sir Edward meant only well for his late friend.’ I turned my head and looked at this stranger next to me with as much dislike as I bore for the king himself. ‘He also understands that it was a grave mistake on his behalf to walk on the streets of London unprotected in the company of common men,’ Belfrigh added. ‘Most likely, it was someone who wanted to kill him rather than this fishmonger, as Sir Edward is close to Your Majesty. There are many treacherous vermin in the city.’

  The king smiled and nodded at Belfrigh. ‘Indeed, Sir John. But I want to hear Sir Edward say it.’ He diverted his glare on me and waited for my submission.

  ‘Your Majesty, I beg for your forgiveness!’ I said through greeted teeth.

  ‘And?’

  ‘And I promise to make it my utmost priority to attend upon your royal person and avoid the company of commoners,’ I added humiliated.

  ‘That’s right, Sir Edward! For I am your lord, master and most of all, your king! NOT your friend!’ King Henry said intimidating me. ‘Thank you, for your assistance, Sir John!’

  ‘Majesty, my pleasure!’ Belfrigh replied.

  ‘You’re both dismissed for now,’ the king said at the end waving a hand towards the exit.

  Belfrigh and I left the king’s presence, and we both remained silent until we reached the courtyard, which was far away from the hearing room. There, I gazed around me, and once I saw that there was no guard or otherwise in the vicinity, I grabbed Belfrigh by the neck and shoved him on the ground.

  ‘What are you playing at?’ I demanded. ‘Sir John?’ I added mockingly.

  ‘Ed, relax!’ said Belfrigh and tried to get up, but I placed a booted foot on his chest to keep him down.

  ‘Did you have a hand in Aeron’s murder?’ I asked ready to kick him to death.

  ‘Ed, I-’ he stuttered.

  ‘Did you? Answer me!’

  ‘NO! Of course not. Aeron was like my brother, I would never do him any harm,’ he claimed whilst trying to evade my foot which was pressing dangerously on his chest.

  ‘Then what happened in there?’

  ‘I saved your skin, that’s what happened,’ he replied, and I kicked him in the ribs. He coughed painfully but carried on talking after a while. ‘We hav
e to adapt, Ed; otherwise, we’ll all be dead soon. You play your game, I play mine.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I reconciled with my brother, Ed. He welcomed me back to the family,’ Belfrigh said struggling now on the ground.

  ‘I thought you hated your family.’

  ‘I hated my father, but my mother was ever so kind to me, and it broke her heart when my father sent me away. As for my brother, he seems all right.’

  ‘Norfolk all right?’ I said in disbelief. ‘He’s one of the worst deceivers at court, along with Suffolk and Thomas Boleyn.’

  ‘Nobody’s perfect! But the truth is, I’ve taken my life back. I spent half of it as an outlaw, but I’m getting old. I’m tired, Ed!’

  There was honesty in his eyes, but there was one more thing that I needed to know. ‘Did you reveal your brother my true identity?’ I asked waiting for the worst.

  ‘No, I swear I did not!’ he answered instantly.

  ‘Who tried to kill me then? It seems that someone knows who I really am and where I reside,’ I said stubbornly. ‘The man who killed Aeron called me a bastard. He knew, Belfrigh. He came for me, and Aeron was just in his way.’ I could not stand talking anymore, another death of a person I loved was in my hands. I removed my foot from Belfrigh’s chest and retracted a few paces to let him stand.

  ‘It might have been the pope!’ Belfrigh suggested once he was up.

  ‘The pope?’ I said contemplating. That speculation had some basis. After all, Cardinal; Campeggio thought that I had betrayed his cause and sided with the king. ‘Why attempt to murder me then? Why not tell the king directly?’

  ‘Think about it, Ed. By telling the king, the pope would have to admit that he had initially conspired with you against him,’ Belfrigh elaborated. ‘Clement definitely wishes to stay in good graces with the king, for he still hopes of his submission to the Catholic Church.’

  ‘Is that possible though?’ I asked, my anger was wavering out now that I trusted in Belfrigh’s words of not being involved in Aeron’s murder.

  ‘It’s not! My brother confided me only yesterday that the king prepares to prosecute the clergy for supporting Wolsey’s policies,’ Belfrigh replied.

  ‘Surely, he doesn’t mean to charge them all for treason,’ I said incredulously.

  ‘No! He merely intends to bully them into submitting to him and recognise him as Head of the Church of England. If that happens, there’s no turning back. England will surely sever ties with Rome and any papal authority would not apply here anymore, providing the king with the ultimate power in every matter in his realm, including theological.’

  ‘He will have the power to annul his own marriage then and marry the Boleyn woman!’ I concluded.

  ‘Exactly!’ Belfrigh confirmed.

  ‘What do we do then Belfrigh?’ It was the first time I had asked for his advice after we had returned to England, for it was plain now to me that we had to stick together if we were to survive in this whirlwind of events which we were trying to influence and yet seemed unable to do so.

  ‘We adapt, Ed! That’s our only chance!’ Belfrigh repeated his earlier statement, and he was right. He placed a consoling hand on my shoulder and asked: ‘Where’s Aeron?’

  ‘I buried him,’ I answered miserably.

  *

  The cut on my left arm had festered. Initially, I had dismissed the stink I felt on the wound as nothing more than another heirloom of a fight; expecting yet another scar upon my body. Weeks had passed, though and the wound had not yet healed, on the contrary, it seemed more open than ever… The skin around it had turned green, and pus was coming out of its core. Before long, the sweating had overtaken me, and I was unable to stand and perform my duties. The king had sent his best physicians to attend me. They did what was expected of them, draining the pus from the wound and applying some unknown to me herbs that covered the foul smell but made it hurt even worse than before.

  My dreams were troubled and more vivid than ever during those weeks. Every night I was experiencing my family’s tragedy all over again, and when awake I was still seeing my house burning before my eyes and the voices of my mother and sisters being tormented by the fires.

  There were moments I thought my end was near and I would soon reunite with them… I confess I often prayed for it. I prayed to God and his Holy Angels to put an end to my physical pain, but most of all to my sorrow. All I wished was to see their faces again, especially my sweet sister Jane, who was the purest and most innocent of all…

  ‘But you’ll never going to see them again, Edward!’ said a sinister voice in my head. ‘For they’re in heaven and you’re going to Hell!’

  ‘Lord, forgive me!’ I responded to the voice. ‘I am a sinner, I acknowledge it, but I repent! I repent for the chance to see their faces again.’

  ‘The only thing you will see, Edward of York, is the axe of the executioner…’ said the voice and a black hooded figure materialised in front of me, holding a tremendous double-edged axe in his hand, which was dripping blood… My blood.

  ‘The end is near, Ed!’ said Aeron, who suddenly was standing over my bed, soaking wet and covered in mud and blood. His eyes were cold, and he did not resemble the Aeron I knew. ‘’Tis too late to turn back now. You shall pay for what you’ve done!’ Then he traced his bloody belt and unsheathed a small dagger. ‘’TIS YOUR FAULT!’ he screamed and started stabbing me all over my body with enmity…

  He cut my belly open and took out my entrails. Next, he severed my hands whilst laughing maliciously. I was screaming in pain, begging him to stop, but he would not. His mouth was dripping spittle and blood, and he had an unearthly grin on his face which reminded me of demons I had seen in paintings.

  ‘YOU-DESERVE-THIS!’ With every word, he stabbed me in a different place of my body, and I felt my soul leaving my person…

  ‘NOOOO!’ I woke up screaming, waiting to see Aeron in front of me, but instead, I was in the embrace of some very familiar warm arms.

  ‘I’m here, Edward! Take it easy now, lay back and try to relax.’ Eleanor, my red-headed love, whom I had sent away, was back.

  ‘Eleanor, what’re you doing here?’ I asked gazing into her beautiful green eyes. She looked tired and lacking sleep. ‘How long have you been on my side?’

  ‘Three days!’

  ‘I’ve been unconscious for three whole days?’ I asked in awe.

  ‘Not exactly! You were half-sleeping actually. Hallucinating, talking with people that were never here,’ she claimed, but I did not believe her.

  ‘Aeron!’ I said simply.

  ‘Aeron’s dead, my love!’ she said, but she was lying for Aeron had been here only moments ago, slashing me into pieces with his dagger.

  ‘No! He was HERE, I’m telling you!’ I yelled back, she did not understand, she could not see him. ‘He came back to avenge his soul, for it was my fault. The assassin wanted me. Just like the black horsemen all those years ago in York. They wanted ME!’ Warm tears had now started to trickle down my cheeks. ‘I have to end this!’

  ‘Edward, listen to me!’ said Eleanor trying to dissuade me, for I was unable to stay put and was ready to leap off the bed, grab my sword and go find the king to end it all. ‘It was a dream. You’re feeling guilty of Aeron’s death, and that’s causing you distress. And the wound isn’t helping either. The physicians initially said that they might have to cut off your arm or risk your death.’

  For a moment everything else was wiped off my mind. ‘Cut off my arm?’ I asked and immediately turned my gaze to my left side, but my arm was still there, intact. I stretched it and felt a sharp pain momentarily. There was a white turned-red from blood cloth covering my wound.

  ‘They didn’t, after all!’ Eleanor concluded. ‘The king bade his physicians use a remedy of his own concoction. Miraculously, it worked. Your sweating has been wavering off the past few hours, although you were still delirious.’

  ‘The king saved my life?’ I asked in
disbelief looking again at my arm.

  ‘Indeed, Edward! Maybe, he’s not the one you’re looking for,’ she suggested.

  ‘You don’t know anything about him, Eleanor,’ I countered. ‘One day he’s the kindest prince that has ever lived, and the next he’s the cruellest tyrant that would do anything to satisfy his vanity.’

  ‘Nevertheless, you must be grateful to him and to God of course,’ she resented making the sign of the cross, apparently understanding there was no point arguing with me, especially in my current state.

  ‘Yes! God!’ I agreed. ‘He still wants me alive!’ But the voice of Aeron was still echoing in my ears telling me that the end was near.

  ‘You should take some rest!’ Eleanor said after a while. ‘You’ve been most energetic since you woke up and I see that your face is drained of the little colour it had.

  I laid back on my pillows, fixing my eyes on the ceiling of my four-poster bed. Indeed, I felt exhausted, as though I had walked many a mile wearing my heavy plated armour. I extended my good arm and grabbed the looking glass that was on a small stool next to my bed. If I were not holding the mirror, I would not have recognised my reflection. My face was as white as I had never seen it, my eyes were half closed with tiredness and were capped with black crescents. As for my hair and beard, they were both overgrown, but there was something new to them… Grey touches splattered my once black hairs. Age was getting on to me.

  ‘Thank you, Eleanor!’ I said eventually. ‘For everything!’

  ‘My pleasure!’ she said and brushed my hair away from my eyes. ‘Now, try to get some sleep.’

  But I was afraid to fall asleep, scared of what I would see. And so, I laid awake staring at the ceiling of my bed with Eleanor always on my side. I had hurt her, yet she was there at my bedside, taking care of me, for this is love. And love would eventually destroy me…

 

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