‘I apologise, Your Majesty,’ said Cromwell inclining his head in respect. ‘What do you wish to do with Thomas More?’
King Henry did not answer immediately, apparently thinking of the implications if he decided to release More even though he would not take the oath. ‘There could be no exception!’ he said eventually. ‘If Thomas More is permitted to live on with his normal life without showing his absolute loyalty to his sovereign then others would surely follow. You must pressure him to swear the oath.’
‘What if he persists with his refusal, Your Majesty?’ Cromwell asked.
‘He will take the oath, in fear of death. Tell him that, Cromwell. Tell him his king commands it. If he does not, then I shall make an example of him and show the people what befalls to traitors.’
‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ Cromwell concurred. ‘What of Bishop Fisher?’
‘I said no exceptions,’ he thundered and then stood from his throne and approached Cromwell menacingly. ‘I AM THE KING OF ENGLAND AND THE SUPREME HEAD OF THIS CHURCH!’ he yelled at him, spit coming out of his mouth and landing on Cromwell’s face. ‘No one is to defy me, or they shall feel my wrath. Dismissed!’
*
Once more the court’s main topic of conversation was the prince who would soon be delivered by the queen. The king was even more anxious than the last time, for seemingly fear of losing the child that would surely be male. Every preparation was made for Queen Anne’s upcoming labour months before she was due to give birth, and in Eltham Palace, the queen’s apartments were converted into a nursery.
The king was also planning another visit to Calais, to meet with King Francis and renew their alliance. However, with the queen in such a progressive state in her pregnancy, he postponed his trip and went instead in progress to the London area and then to the Midlands, staying always informed, as messengers were regularly bringing him the news. Then just as everything seemed well, a letter delivered him the disturbing information that the queen had lost the child.
We rode back to Eltham in half the time we would have typically done. The raging king seemed ready to destroy everything in his past. When we finally reached the palace, he stormed into the bedchamber where Queen Anne lied upon blood-stained sheets, pale and weak. The rest of us stayed behind the closed doors of the bedchamber, but the king’s shouting was so loud that I was sure everyone in the palace could hear exactly what he was saying.
‘YOU LOST THE CHILD? WHY? HAD HAPPENED? WHAT DID YOU DO?’ King Henry yelled.
‘Nothing, my love, I promise,’ said the weeping queen. ‘She just came prematurely.’
‘SHE? IT WAS A GIRL?’ he paused and then a crashing sound was heard as though he had tossed something against the wall in his anger.
‘I AM CONTENT IT IS LOST THEN, FOR I COULD NOT HAVE BORNE THE SHAME OF FATHERING ANOTHER GIRL.’ Then he stormed out of the bedchamber, Queen Anne became momentarily visible, crying uncontrollably.
‘YOU ARE LUCKY YOU HAVE THAT CROWN OF YOURS BECAUSE I WOULD NOT GIVE IT TO YOU AGAIN!’ he added, not caring who was listening. ‘Oh, don’t look at me like that, Charles!’ he said to Suffolk who was indeed staring at him sternly. Practically sprinting out in the courtyard, he shouted to his men: ‘Saddle the horses and ready the spears.’
‘Your Majesty?’
‘We’re going hunting!’
And so, we did, for hunting was most satisfying for a man to unleash his anger. That morrow, the king savagely killed many a deer and even skinned one himself when we made camp in the open countryside and had dinner. The king’s party comprised of two dozen soldiers, a dozen servants, the Duke of Suffolk, Sir Francis Bryan and me. The Duke of Norfolk had gone with Belfrigh to East Anglia to attend to some local issues.
‘Have you ever lost a child, gentlemen?’ the king asked us.
Everyone including me seemed to nod positively. However, Sir Francis spoke next in a sarcastic tone that was almost insolent given the king’s loss. ‘I wouldn’t know myself, Your Majesty. I never stick with the same woman for very long… I suppose I have fathered a few bastards, but what are children against my freedom?’
I was expecting the king to punch him, but instead, he appeared amused. ‘I wish I could say the same, Sir Francis,’ he said laughing. ‘But for a king 'tis quite different. Bastards are common yes, and mostly insignificant. Legitimate sons though seem to be scarce,’ he added and ate a mouthful of deer-meat, then washed it down with plenty of wine.
The moment I had just started feeling sorry for his loss, he made me reconsider it. Looking at his bearded and increasingly fat face, I only wanted to draw my sword and sever his head…
I had started resenting myself for being at his service for so long. Truth be told, I was on a mission. However, I still did not have any proof of who had committed all those murders, including my family, Eleanor and Aeron’s. What if the king was of the same mind as Thomas Boleyn? But then I would not have been alive, for if he knew that I was his half-brother, he would surely have feared my claim to the throne, despite me being an insignificant bastard.
‘I want you to find me a new mistress,’ said the king shaking me out of my thoughts. His demand was directed at Sir Francis and me. ‘The queen will be incapacitated for weeks, and I do not want to lose my form,’ he said ridiculously.
‘Your Majesty, always at your service,’ I said inclining my head and looking at Sir Francis with a grin. The time seemed to have come at last. The only thing needed now was to find the right lady for the king and keep him alienated from Queen Anne until we had made our plot to depose her.
*
‘Her name is Margaret Shelton, Your Majesty!’ I whispered in the king’s ear during supper.
‘Shelton? My God, Sir Edward, you always surprise me,’ said the king with a laugh. ‘Did you know that the Sheltons are related to the Boleyns? In fact, Margaret is the queen’s cousin. But yes, she’s charming, I grant you that.’
‘I am aware of that, Your Majesty,’ I replied grinning.
Most definitely I knew Margaret Shelton, as the whole court did. She was a beautiful young woman, one of the ladies-in-waiting to Queen Anne and had a reputation for courting men older than her. When Sir Francis, who knew the English royalty better than me had told me of her, there was no question. It would be a scandal if the court should find out that the king was humping the queen’s cousin.
‘’Tis the best cover for you, Your Majesty. Nobody would suspect,’ I said with a straight face.
‘Why would I need a cover?’ the king asked defiantly. ‘I shall court whomever I like.’
‘Yes, Your Majesty! Of course.’
‘Bring her to me after supper!’
‘Majesty, pardon my interruption,’ Sir Henry Norris said, who was standing right next to us and apparently had heard everything. ‘But don’t you think is a bit risky?’
King Henry stopped eating immediately. Letting the meat he was holding drop on his plate, he licked his fingers and grabbed his goblet of wine raising his gaze towards him. ‘Have you been eavesdropping, Sir Henry?’
‘I-I overheard, Your Majesty. I humbly apologise,’ Sir Henry said lowering his head in submission.
‘My God, what happened to the men in this country?’ the king said and made the sign of the cross. ‘Is this why you are still a lone man after your wife’s death, Sir Henry? Out of fear of being risky?’
Sir Henry tried to say something, he stuttered for a few seconds and then remained silent.
‘Ha ha ha!’ the king laughed out loud. ‘We must make you a man again. You have become soft. Maybe you ought to keep better company. I suggest Sir Edward and Sir Francis.’
‘It would be my pleasure!’ I said sarcastically.
Although, I did not know for certain the real reason of Sir Henry’s bold defiance to the king, I was suspecting that it had something to do with his loyalty and affection to the queen; after all, he had demonstrated his discomfort before, when the king had other mistresses.
‘’Tis a di
sgrace. A husband should honour his wife,’ Sir Henry said to me after supper, when the king was away to his bedchamber to prepare himself for a night of lust.
‘’Tis natural!’ I countered. ‘And he’s the king. You’d better be careful of your tongue, Sir Henry or you might lose it.’
‘I shall not be part of this,’ he said frowning and departed, and I went to fetch Margaret Shelton.
My plan could not have worked better so far. As it seemed, Sir Henry would inevitably spread the word about the king’s new adventurous infidelities, which would lead to the queen finding out and causing another outburst between the royal couple.
However, my ultimate plan, which was already in motion, was to spread rumours of the queen’s supposed infidelity. Although, there was no proof of it, and I did not doubt Queen Anne loved her husband and king, her adventures in France were a shared secret. That was to be my startup point, for if a woman lied about her virginity and went to her marriage defiled, then nothing would stop her doing it again.
At this time of night, Margaret would be on her own apartments, which was unfortunately on the other side of the palace and took a lot of time to reach her. She had looked excited when I had told her that the king had asked personally for her and kept asking me awkward questions, such us, whether it was true that the king’s stamina during humping still endured.
‘Lady Margaret with all due respect, but I am a Gentleman of the Privy Chamber and not the king’s lover. I would not know the answer to these questions.’
‘Call me Madge!’ she said giggling, something that she did quite often.
I never had such a close encounter with her before, and I must say, she was as irritating as she was pretty. In fact, she never seemed to stop talking, and I started to fear that she was not the right match for the king, after all. However, one hour later, I was relieved that they were getting along well, and judging by her loud moans, too well…
A long time seemed to have passed with me standing outside the king’s bedchamber, and I figured that Lady Shelton would spend the night at the king’s bed. And so, I was on my way to my apartments when I suddenly found the corridor ahead of me blocked by a man.
‘Who’s there?’ I asked and touched my waist, where there was a hidden sheathed dagger under my doublet.
‘’Tis I, the Earl of Wiltshire,’ the man responded and sure enough moments later I saw the ruddy face of Thomas Boleyn which was illuminated by a lantern on the wall beside him.
‘What’re you doing here at this time of night?’ I asked rudely, but then bit my tongue and added: ‘My lord?’
‘As a matter of fact, I was looking for you, Sir Edward,’ said Boleyn in a calm voice and approached me. His bearded face was a mask of anger, and I could tell that whatever was to follow would not be pleasant.
‘Whatever for, my lord?’ I enquired in my most innocent voice. He was now standing just a few paces ahead of me; my hand was gripping the hidden dagger.
‘I think you know very well why, you traitorous bastard,’ he stated in a hoarse whisper. ‘I have been tolerating you for far too long. Letting you live in your half-brother’s court without betraying your secret, but you, you have outreached yourself, sir. I know what you’re attempting to do here. You wish to see my daughter out of the throne before she has a son and then somehow plot your way into the line of succession. But I have had enough, bastard.’
The masks had finally fallen. It was just him and me now.
‘Forgive me, my lord,’ I started in a sarcastic tone, ‘for being a nuisance to your skimming plans to seize as much power as you can.’
‘You know, Edward. I always say that we should not blame other men for our failures. And so, I blame myself for failing to kill you on multiple occasions, notably almost ten years ago.’
I froze. Was this the moment of truth then?
‘Yes, you have guessed correctly, bastard. ’Twas I who sent those men to kill you and your whole family. You were a potential threat, you see. A threat to my own family as I was trying to put one of my daughters to the throne next to King Henry. But I failed, for you survived, and most of all, you had escaped into Rome. I found your tracks, though and sent for an assassin to take you out of the way, for I feared retaliation. I thought that this time I had succeeded…
However, five years ago when you sailed back to England with your supposed father, Cardinal Campeggio and styled the name Eduardo, I knew it must be you, the bastard son of King Henry the Seventh. I was not certain, though. I could not possibly murder the son of a cardinal, even if he was fake. Although, when you stayed behind after Campeggio’s departure, my suspicions rose. Then your stupid friend Sir John confessed everything to his brother Norfolk, and thus I was certain.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’ I asked, but he remained silent. Instead, he licked his lips disgustingly, whilst I was looking at him with contempt and anger. I did not know how long I could hold back. The only way of stopping me slaughtering him was to keep talking. In any case, I so craved for the truth about these horrible things that had happened to me and my loved ones during the past decade.
‘I’m tired of hiding my true purposes, you have exhausted me, and I have certainly more important things to deal with…’ he spoke eventually.
‘Why didn’t you have me killed then when you found out who I really was?’
‘Because I did not think you were capable of doing anything that would jeopardise my plans. I admit I underestimated you in the beginning, for how much damage could a bastard inflict on the great Boleyn family? However, you were getting closer to the king. Thus, I started to worry. Nobody would believe me that you were the king’s own brother without proof, though. It was not known that your father had a mistress in York, but my informants were everywhere,’ he answered in a cold voice.
‘Is this how you found me in Rome afterwards?’ I inquired curiously. ‘You had informants there too?’
‘Ha ha!’ he laughed. ‘Seriously? You never suspected? ’Twas Walter the merchant, you fool. That man, who was keeping you informed about the comings and goings in England and taking your coin, was actually my man. You are so naïve, Edward. And this is exactly why I cannot let you destroy everything I have built here. With my own wits.’
‘Your wits are murderous, Boleyn,’ I said staring into his eyes, those cold eyes that hid hatred. ‘I suppose you are responsible for the murder of Aeron too? And then the burning of Eleanor?’
‘Ah, you see here I am half-innocent,’ he said and smiled for the first time, although it was a revolting, sardonic smile. ‘I never had anything to do with your fishmonger friend. I suppose that was the pope’s doing. You have made a lot of enemies on your way back home, bastard.’
‘You admit it, then. You had Eleanor burned?’
‘Indeed, I was the one who tipped Thomas More for a nest of heretics in the city, and my men had her arrested. Your woman was not careful enough, and she had been spotted to Lutheran gatherings. I am a Lutheran myself, you know, and it grieved me to have a woman of the same faith killed by the hands of a pious Catholic; but it was the perfect opportunity to hurt you, to make you see what happens when you meddle in other people’s affairs. People that are not only in a higher rank than you but are much smarter and much more experienced in the game of politics.’
‘Politics? Is this how you disguise your crimes?’ I asked incredulously.
‘Everything I do, I do it for my family,’ he claimed, looking convinced by his own words, as though he was doing something noble.
‘You disgust me! I should gut you here and now,’ I said and made a movement to unsheathe my dagger.
‘Why don’t you do it?’ he mocked as I hesitated. The king’s apartments were nearby, and the guards would surely capture me before I had time to escape. Killing him now would be suicide. Did I care, though?
‘You don’t have the guts. Even though you have lost everything,’ he continued taunting me. ‘I am here to warn you, then. Keep your skimming claws out of
my family’s business. Be a good servant for your king and queen and no further harm shall come to you. Fail to do so, and this time I shall not be so lenient… I will have you killed this time, rather than try to hurt your emotions.’
‘Go on! What else can you do to me? You suppose I care for my own well-being? All I want is to avenge my family. But this will not be fulfilled here in this dark corridor. Oh, no Boleyn. I shall make you suffer. You will lose everything. I will destroy you and your family. For there are worse things than death itself. When you are stripped of everything you hold dear in this world, only then I will oblige you and take your life for my own. Only then I shall cut your heart out of your chest and feed it to the dogs. And the world will know, that you deserved nothing more, that you were a piece of shit that worked his way up by murdering and plotting against better men. For it is not a title that makes one noble, Boleyn. It is a good heart. And you have none.’
*
Knowing the truth does not always bring comfort. I can tell this from experience. I had been craving for answers ever since my family’s massacre, but now that I had them, it did not make it easier to do what I must. Long ago, I had realised that coming back to England and pursuing my goal of revenge would be the end of me. Now I feared it more than ever.
Although, Thomas Boleyn had been my chief suspect for some time, being certain that he was responsible for my misery triggered a whole new emotion to me, overwhelming fear; for whatever I had said about destroying him, I feared a potential failure, and that all this would be in vain, that I had wasted a decade of my life, trying to redeem myself. I could have been anywhere else in the country, with a new name, living a quiet life. Now, it was too late to turn back. Men must learn to live with their decisions, whether they are right or not. Thus, I proceeded with my plan, thinking that nothing Boleyn could do would inflict me more pain than he had already done…
The Illegitimate Tudor Page 30