‘Y-You’re bleeding!’
‘Wha? Can someone get rid of that fool? He’s scaring off me customers…’ Aeron yelled to no one in particular.
People now had started staring at me, apparently expecting some sort of entertaining fight. He kept yelling, but now no sound came out of his mouth. The stain on his shirt was spreading fast until it had gone over to his grey jerkin and made it red. I was now certain it was blood, but he did not seem to have noticed.
Then suddenly, he looked at me, straight into the eyes. His glare was terrifying and menacing. At last, noticing his bloody chest, he touched it with one hand and then outstretched it towards my direction. ‘Look what you’ve done, you shit!’ he said in a disgusting hoarse voice. Around us, everyone continued to observe, and some even clapped or pointed at me laughing.
‘Aeron, I’m sorry!’ I managed to say.
‘What did you accomplish, eh?’ he asked and now circled his bench and approached me slowly, his extended hand dripping with thick blood. ‘And for what? To redeem yourself? To save your soul?’
I was awestruck, and I confess afraid. I started back-stepping, but so slowly that I was barely moving.
‘’Tis because of you I’m dead!’ he said in a cold voice, his bleeding was now uncontrollable, and he had created a small pool of blood on the muddy ground.
‘No, no, Aeron, you’re alive, you’re standing here!’ I said almost trembling now, but I knew in my heart that something was amiss. There was only one way to end this, and thus I unsheathed my longsword and ran it through his suffering body, ending his misery.
He screamed in agony and fell to the ground twitching. ‘Your doing!’ he said in a fading voice.
‘What have you done, Edward?’ said a woman, standing over the now dead body of Aeron. It was Eleanor, but she was burned, blackened to her very bones. Her skull was clearly visible under her flame-consumed flesh. ‘You’ve killed us all, my love,’ she said with red eyes and then fell next to Aeron’s bloody body.
‘Eleanor, no, please… ’Twas not me, I tried to save you… I did…’ I was on my knees now weeping like a little child, the voices around me were muffled, there was nothing there but the corpses of my Eleanor and Aeron…
Hours seemed to have passed when I was at last lifted on my feet by a pair of strong unknown hands. My vision was blurry, and I could see nothing but dark silhouettes surrounding me.
‘Clean up this mess, will you?’ said a familiar voice. ‘Com’on, Edward. Let’s get you out of here!’
I gazed at the face of my helper, and I saw the one eye of Sir Francis Bryan. ‘Sir Francis, they deserve a proper burial! Please!’ I begged and turned to look again at my victims, but I could only see soldiers moving the bodies away from prying eyes.
The rain was falling heavy now, and I realised I was soaking wet. Before long though, Sir Francis and I had entered an alehouse. He led me to a remote table at the far end and placed me heavy on a stool.
‘You’re a mess!’ Sir Francis said. ‘You need a drink. Wench!’ he shouted and a woman in red hair, who unnervingly resembled Eleanor, came to our table. ‘Bring us two pints of the strongest ale you’ve got, love. And quick!’ he commanded and slapped her arse whilst she was going away. ‘Ah, those women, they’ll drive us crazy one day, eh?’ Sir Francis said.
A few minutes later, the red-head woman came back with two filthy cups, full of ale. ‘I’ll come to you later, love,’ Sir Francis promised her.
‘I look forward, my lord!’ She smiled at him and squeezed his crotch. She was expecting good payment for her services, and with no wonder, as Sir Francis was dressed in an expensive black doublet, golden rings in his fingers and a silver chain around his neck.
‘That’s your first of the night,’ Sir Francis said and tossed a golden crown inside her cleavage. She giggled and left. ‘Cheers!’ he then said, encouraging me to drink, and I did but before I had time to swallow I vomited all over the table. ‘Oh God, whatever happened to you?’ Sir Francis asked disgustedly. He called for the woman again to clean the mess, and when it was done, he looked at me sternly. ‘Look, Edward. I don’t know what’s got into your head. Coming down in the city and murdering innocent folk? A fishmonger and his woman? For what? They refused to sell you fish at a good price or something?’
It took me a few moments to realise what he had just said, but when I did, I was devastated. It turned out I had another one of my visions. Seeing the fishmonger had triggered my troubled guilt for the murder of my friend. I thought the man was Aeron and the woman Eleanor, but they were nothing more than ordinary people, unacquainted to me. I clutched my head, not believing that I had just murdered an innocent couple with my delusions.
‘It seems, you have some sort of a problem, Edward. But I’d be willing to help you and cover up your mess if you were to give me something in return…’
‘And what would that be, Francis?’
‘Let me ask you a question first. How fond are you of the new queen?’
In my misery, I smiled involuntarily, for I knew I had found myself an ally.
*
I spent the next few months mostly spying on Queen Anne and courting her ladies-in-waiting to learn more about her and discover some way to destroy her. As for the king, he was refusing to lay with his new queen as he was afraid to endanger his unborn son. As a man though, he still had needs and thus had bidden many a time to bring him women on his bedchamber. I stood guard outside, often in the company of other gentlemen, hearing them moan and making private jokes about how he could still satisfy a lady whilst he was in his forties.
Unfortunately for the king, his activities had not passed unnoticed and whispers reached the queen, who given her state of pregnancy was more sensitive than usual. These whispers were encouraged by Sir Francis and me who were both feeding information to the queen’s ladies. When she found out, she had the sort of reaction we were expecting…
One night, during supper she created such a scene that everyone thought she would attack the king’s person physically. Thankfully for her, the supper was relatively private that evening, and only a few lords and the queen’s ladies were present. It started as a quiet argument but turned out to be a heated exchange of heavy wording.
‘Just tell me the truth, Henry!’ Queen Anne pleaded. ‘Where do you meet them? How many are there? Do you have feelings for them?’
‘My love,’ the king started as he rose from his chair, ready to explode in anger as he usually did when someone was challenging him so openly. ‘All I will say is this and no more: you should shut your eyes and mouth and endure your fate as my queen as other betters have done before you.’ He then left the room leaving the queen horror-struck and on the verge of tears.
‘Away everyone!’ she shouted, and we all hurried to leave the room, but then she added. ‘Sir Henry, Sir Francis, Sir Edward. Pray you stay a while.’ She waited until everyone else had left, then she motioned us to sit beside her on the table next to the blazing fireplace. ‘You are all very close to the king, I implore you to tell me. Has he been unfaithful to me?’
We looked at each other. As gentlemen of the king, we were bound to keep his secrets and would be endangering our heads to expose them. Of course, Sir Francis and I were prepared to take that risk and fuel the queen’s suspicions. To my great surprise, though, it was Sir Henry that showed little hesitation and said: ‘Yes, Your Majesty! Many times. I have heard him with my own ears.’
Queen Anne started weeping now. Her beautiful face became a mask of sadness and despair. ‘Oh, my lords. It has started sooner than I had anticipated. I am queen but a few months, and he already looks elsewhere. And what if I deliver a daughter? God, forbid! He will abandon me as he did with Catherine. I start to realise now that it is not about which woman he will have as his own because of love, but which woman will give him the male heir he so desires.’
‘Ma’am, do not say that! You are nothing like Catherine,’ I said with a convincing voice. You are ten times w
orse than her.
Catherine of Aragon was proud and stubborn when it came to the king’s infidelity, but she was aware she had to keep her mouth closed and turn a blind eye, for she always believed that the king would eventually be bored of his mistresses. She was discreet and kind, and at the end, her only flaw was that she could not give the king a son. Queen Anne, however, was too independent of a woman for King Henry. It was becoming apparent to me that she would never be the submissive woman he was expecting, and I really doubted he would tolerate her for very long. The only thing that was left to be seen now was whether she could save herself by delivering a son…
To my great relief, on the seventh of September, Queen Anne gave birth to a daughter, and the pamphlets were hastily changed to correct the word prince to princess. All her enemies rejoiced, including me. As optimistic as I was for her downfall, the king was equally positive that more children would follow, including a son. To show his respect towards his newly born daughter, he decided to name her Elizabeth, in honour of his late mother, Elizabeth of York. Ironically, that was my mother’s name too, and she was also from York, although, a different person.
Whatever I did, no matter how hard I tried I could not be affectionate towards my half-brother, the king nor his daughter, my niece. Even though I was now almost entirely sure he had nothing to do with my family’s murder, I could not include myself in the bloody and ruthless dynasty of the Tudors. Therefore, I felt no regret in wanting to get rid of his wife.
I decided then that it was past time I made a more vital step towards her distraction. Henceforth, I was even more observant and listening to everything that was said around in the court; eavesdropping on private conversations and realising how Thomas Boleyn had weaved his web around the king and his power. What could possibly be done to discredit the new queen? If the king’s infidelity or the birth of his daughter was not enough for him to start thinking to divorce her, then what was? The sole thing that I considered was to somehow accuse her of witchcraft or heresy. That would definitely put her under scrutiny, but I needed proof. I needed an influential man, a man with enough power that his word would inspire trust to the courtiers. There was none other that fitted that description than Thomas Cromwell.
To my dismay Cromwell persisted we should wait even more, for the queen was pregnant again only a couple of months after the birth of Princess Elizabeth.
‘I admit that the king’s behaviour shows little tolerance against Queen Anne, however, she is still more than capable of giving him a son, and if that should happen, Sir Edward, nobody would be able to take her away from the king’s side,’ Cromwell pointed out. ‘She might not be the conventional queen we all saw in the face of Catherine of Aragon, but I believe the king still loves her dearly.’
‘Mister Cromwell, you once said that you did not want the Boleyns to gain too much power, for you consider them dangerous to be so close to the king. So, you suggested to wait, and so we have, for two whole years. Well, now the Boleyns’ grip on the king is more powerful than ever. We must act before it’s irreversible,’ I countered angrily and then added, ‘What would happen for example if the king should die, leaving an infant girl as his heir to the throne with Queen Anne as regent or even worse, Thomas Boleyn as Lord Protector?’
‘Sir Edward, you must realise that any attempt to accuse the queen of anything in an effort to discredit her must come along with incontrovertible proof of her guilt. And if the queen should have a son, then the king would not take any of those accusations seriously, even if you claim that she has sided with the Devil himself. And may God help these poor souls that would falsely accuse her. So, my advice is that we should wait and see what her second child will be.’ He paused and drew a deep breath. ‘In the meantime, though that should not be your only concern, Sir Edward. Our reformation is moving forward and faster than I had expected. An Act of Parliament is being prepared as we speak to officially recognise King Henry as Supreme Head of the Church of England, thus formally severing the ties with the See of Rome.’
I gazed upon this ambitious man, who had risen so high for himself, despite being a son of a blacksmith and having as noble blood in his veins as my old horse. It was clear, that despite not particularly liking the new queen and her family he was prepared to use them for as long as was necessary to proceed with his reformation. Having no other option myself, and no other potential strong allies, having lost the Duke of Suffolk and not daring to approach the Duke of Norfolk as he was the brother-in-law of Thomas Boleyn, I agreed with Cromwell.
‘We wait then. But bear in mind, Master Cromwell that my patience is being tested, and I will not wait forever.’
‘My dear, Sir Edward, you must be careful, for I know you have already conspired with Sir Francis to spread rumours and feed dangerous information to the queen and her ladies. Be warned, though, for you put yourself in a perilous situation. However, if you have a death wish, then please, proceed without me and try to get rid of the queen. I promise you, I will do everything in my power to give you an honourable funeral, although that would be difficult as you would be a traitor to the crown,’ he said with an ironic smile.
*
‘I promise you, my lord, he’s the most revolting man I have ever met. Every night he comes to my bedchamber drunk and demands that I should be ready for him,’ said Lady Jane Rochford, who was the wife of Queen Anne’s brother, Viscount Rochford, George Boleyn. She was a beautiful young woman, with auburn hair, not unlike the queen’s, and incredible blue eyes. She had high cheekbones and full lips.
It was dusk, and I had met with her to learn some information about the queen and her brother. Jane was most willing to provide me with such knowledge, although I considered some of her claims extravagant, thus making me suspicious that she hated her husband so much that she was ready to accuse him of any foul crime ever committed in this world.
‘Well, that is no more than a husband should expect from his wife,’ I countered logically.
‘That’s not it, sir. I am his wife, yes and bound to obey him. But a husband should respect his wife, not mistreat her or beat her or...’ She paused for a second looking around her, but there was nobody there to eavesdrop. ‘The reason for my concern though is that he always takes me from behind. Only from there.’
‘You mean-’
‘From the arse, sir, yes.’
‘That is unusual I confess, but-’
‘’Tis unnatural and ungodly, sir,’ she said and lowered her head in shame.
‘Lady Rochford, you said only. You cannot possibly mean that you never had proper intercourse with each other.’
She was weeping now. ‘That is what I meant, my lord. Why do you think we never had a child? We’ve been married for years, yet I am still a virgin, my flower is unspoiled.’
‘What are you implying then?’
‘Sir, I believe he prefers the company of men and people say he has an intimate relationship with the queen’s musician. Also, some of Her Majesty’s ladies have confided in me that he spends a suspicious amount of time with the queen confined in her bedchamber,’ she carried on in a barely audible whisper.
‘You suggest the queen has committed incest with her brother?’ I asked incredulously. That was beyond my wildest dreams. It was the solution to my problem. It was not the king’s infidelity I should rely upon, but the queen’s, even if it was false; for it is High Treason for a queen to be unfaithful to her king and husband, and there was only one way that High Treason was dealt with: execution!
‘Sir Edward, I’m scared! He’s like the Devil. He and his sister and the whole accursed family of the Boleyns,’ she confessed, and without warning, she hugged me.
‘Do not be wary, my lady, for work is already in progress to rid our court of this family and free His Majesty from their spells,’ I reassured her and made to give her a comforting kiss on the forehead. ‘You could prove a valuable ally, my lady,’ I added smiling.
*
In the spring of 1534, the Act of Succe
ssion passed through parliament, putting an end to speculation about the inheritance of the throne. Princess Elizabeth was named Heir Apparent, and the Lady Mary, the former queen’s daughter was now officially a bastard. However, should Queen Anne deliver a son, then the male child would surpass the princess in the line of succession, even though he would be younger.
The king had made a bold and at the same time smart move. Every loyal subject was required to swear an oath recognising the legitimacy of Princess Elizabeth and the disinheritance of the Lady Mary, as she was now known. However, to take this oath, one would also have to acknowledge King Henry as the Supreme Head of the Church of England, since he was basically the one that had annulled his own marriage with Catherine of Aragon. To defy the vow would have been considered High Treason and that was punishable by death. Thus, we all hurried to swear.
There were a few individuals, though that refused and were inevitably led to the Tower of London to wait for their trial and sentence. Most prominently of those men, was Sir Thomas More, the king’s former Lord Chancellor and John Fisher, the Bishop of Rochester. They were both now known as the champions of Queen Catherine’s claim and were therefore considered very dangerous by the king, as they were both public figures and most importantly popular with the ordinary folk.
‘Why would they not swear the oath?’ said the angry king when the news of More’s and Fisher’s capture reached him.
‘Your Majesty, you know Thomas More and Bishop Fisher very well,’ Cromwell said. ‘They are pious and stubborn men and-’
‘You will not speak foul of Thomas More, Mister Cromwell,’ the king said. ‘More has provided and cared for this kingdom longer than any of you in here,’ he paused, then added: ‘As for Bishop Fisher, it does not surprise me.’
We were in the hearing hall, and the king was surrounded by his most entrusted advisers, including the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk; the Earl of Wiltshire, Thomas Boleyn along with his son Viscount Rochford, George Boleyn. Sir Henry Norris, Sir Francis Bryan and I consisted of the king’s most trusted gentlemen. All present were mostly inclined towards the reformation of the Church. Therefore, to suggest that one of the most pious men in England was the most devoted one to the king was a claim that offended us all.
The Illegitimate Tudor Page 29