The Illegitimate Tudor

by James M Stuart

  She just smiled without saying anything, her eyes watery. Then, we followed Cromwell and his men out of the cell, through the dungeons and out of the White Tower, in the courtyard which was now covered with a thin layer of snow.

  *

  On the morrow, the news reached me on the palace; Eleanor had been sentenced to die by burning at the stake. The ordeal would take place in Tower Hill, a place known for its public executions, in two days’ time, at midday.

  I felt hopeless, powerless, lost and most of all, alone. The world was moving so fast that I could hardly comprehend it. I had promised Eleanor to save her, but I knew I would fail. Desperate as I was I made a final plea to the king telling him that Eleanor was to have my child, surely, he would not let a pregnant woman burn. However, he dismissed my claim as idle and false but gave me permission to attend the execution, although, that was hardly a consolation. I did not know if I could stand the sight of Eleanor burning, on the other hand, I could not leave her alone.

  Cromwell seemed to have saved me from certain death yet again, no doubt for his own selfish reasons, but all the same, he was the reliable ally I needed at this ruthless court; the man who would be willing to help me destroy the Boleyns, the family that seemed to be the one responsible for all my woes…

  On the day of the execution, the sky was dark, and a light drizzle had started, melting away the snow that had settled on the ground a few days before. It was as if God Himself was weeping for this injustice.

  Eleanor stood next to a tall wooden stake, her hands tied behind her back and four guards around her. She was dressed in rags once more, it was the same undergarments that she had been wearing since her arrest, although now they were grey rather than white and were ripped in many places. She also had several bruises on her legs, arms and face with a couple of them bleeding. She had apparently been beaten if not altogether tortured.

  ‘ELEANOR!’ I yelled and ran towards her, but I was stopped a few paces before her by guards.

  ‘EDWARD! NO! LEAVE AT ONCE!’ she yelled from a distance.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going, lad?’ said one of the guards. ‘If you want to watch, you must keep your distance and stand with the rest of the mob.’ He motioned with his hands, showing the small crowd that had gathered. For the common folk, this was considered to be entertainment.

  ‘This is my woman, you fucking idiot and I am a knight,’ I replied aggressively. ‘You will show respect.’

  ‘As you will!’ said a strong voice behind me. It was Sir Thomas More, the one responsible for the atrocities of burning heretics at the stake. He was dressed in his long black gown and the golden chain of the Lord Chancellor around his neck, along with his black conservative hat. ‘If you wish to watch, you ought to do it with dignity and most of all silence. The procedure is about to commence.’

  ‘The procedure?’ I was outraged. This fanatic lunatic was about to burn the woman I loved alive, and he showed no sign of hesitation. Belfrigh appeared behind me and tried to restrain me. ‘Your Grace, I never believed piety could reach such levels of inhumanity.’

  Thomas More smiled unmoved. ‘’Tis what is expected of us, the servants of God. The right word is loyalty, Sir Edward. You should be grateful to the Earl of Wiltshire for uncovering this nest of heretics,’ he said referring to Thomas Boleyn. ‘Apparently, it was more than a dozen women and men that were found guilty and will be burned one after the other in an attempt to purge their souls.’

  ‘You pious bastard. Your downfall is near,’ I said without thinking, and immediately two soldiers were at my side, pointing their spears at me.

  Thomas More made a discarded nod to the soldiers and they lowered their weapons immediately. He came closer to me, we were almost nose to nose when he whispered so only I could hear him. ‘If you wish to follow your lover, you need only continue on your current course, and make no mistake… You might have fooled the king, but you haven’t fooled me.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Your Grace,’ I said unconvincingly.

  ‘I know you are not who you say you are, Edward of York!’

  I looked at him in apprehension without being able to utter a word. How many people knew about my origins, after all? And how long until the king himself discovered the truth and had me executed?

  ‘Now move back!’ Thomas More insisted with loathing in his eyes.

  ‘Com’on, Ed!’ said Belfrigh. He almost had to drag me from my arms backwards.

  We joined the crowd, which was now dense. Hundreds of people had turned up to watch the witch die. To my great distress, I looked around and saw folk enjoying themselves and heard them shouting curses and insults at Eleanor. I lowered my head and turned my gaze down on my feet, fighting the warm tears that were threatening to appear on my eyes. I started breathing faster than usual, and the air was burning my lungs. The shouts were poison to my ears, and I did not know if I could endure this until the end. The only thing that kept me rooted to my spot was the fact that I wished to be on Eleanor’s side.

  Belfrigh, who stood next to me, put a consoling arm on my shoulder. It took me a great deal of strength to raise my head and look towards Eleanor, who was now wholly restrained upon the wooden stake and two masked men were placing woods and hay around her to prepare the pyre. Her bruised face seemed to be in pain, but she kept her head high and searched the crowd, no doubt to locate me. After a few moments, she spotted and smiled at me for the last time after mouthing I love you.

  Thomas More placed himself on high ground and extended his hands on the air to call for silence. ‘Good Christians of England,’ he started and everyone in the vicinity hushed. ‘You have come here on this cold day to witness the purging of a heretic and a witch.’

  People applauded, whilst others shouted things like: ‘Bless you, Sir Thomas!’ and ‘You’re doing God’s work!’ or ‘Burn the witch!’

  He raised his hands again, and everyone fell silent once more. ‘What I despise most in this world are heretics and heathens,’ he said, ‘and their evil hearts who wish to corrupt the good and faithful people. But I promise you this, my fellow Christians: for as long as I am Lord Chancellor, I will see that these ungodly men and women are unmasked and then burned for their sins. And praise be to those that help my holy cause, for it is God’s own cause. Damn those who oppose it, for they are heretics and sinners themselves.’ He finished his speech and then made a notion to the masked executioners, who were now holding flaming torches, to commence.

  One of the men offered Eleanor to cover her eyes with a cloth, but she shook him away with her head. She would not die like a coward. She started talking from a distance, but I could not comprehend what she was saying because of the excessive noise and shouts of the crowd. Then the torches touched the wooden sticks and hay; they burst into flames immediately and quickly worked their way up her legs and then her upper body, reaching her face in mere seconds. Eleanor started screaming in pain, and I flinched in dismay.

  Oh God, let her suffering end quickly, for she has done nothing wrong, I prayed silently.

  As if God had heard me, her screeches ceased soon, she had only lasted a few minutes on the pyre, and she was dead. Her disintegrated flesh was fouling the air with a horrific smell. Her body now hung limply from the stake, and the crowd started departing the place, clearly disappointed that it had lasted so little. Thomas More’s smirk though was of pure satisfaction.

  ‘I did warn you not to put your faith in Cromwell, Sir Edward!’ It was the Duke of Suffolk that had spoken, he had apparently been watching the whole time, blended into the crowd. ‘If you had supported me against him, your woman might have still been alive,’ he added, but he only received angry scorn from Belfrigh.

  ‘And you should know when to hold your tongue, my Lord Suffolk!’ Belfrigh said and then edged me to move away. ‘Let’s go, Ed! There’s nothing for you here, now!’ I heard Belfrigh’s voice as if from a great distance and then finally I released my tears down my cheeks, not willi
ng to fight them anymore, for they seemed to pay tribute to my lost love.

  Eleanor was gone from this world, her life forfeited unjustly by my enemies in an attempt to hurt me. Her life, along with my mother’s, stepfather’s, sisters’ and Aeron’s, was hanging on my conscience, whilst I still lingered alive, but with little purpose and strength at heart to carry on.

  CHAPTER XI

  A Most Ambitious Woman

  The year that followed Eleanor’s death was turbulent and full of developments in the King’s Court, whilst I stood on the background of events, attending on his royal person, holding my tongue when necessary and biding my time to strike and take my revenge. However, my patience was being tested as I remained idle month after month observing how the Boleyns’ influence over the king was becoming firmer.

  On the other hand, there was some positive news for the people of England. Indeed, King Henry was capricious and wished to annul his marriage to Queen Catherine in order to marry his mistress, but that had resulted in the Catholic oppression to be lifted considerably in the country. The clergy was eventually submitted on the absolute to the king, and the pious Thomas More offered his resignation as Lord Chancellor, something that was greeted with enthusiasm amongst those at court who wished to see Catholicism and its supporters banished from England.

  As for Thomas Cromwell, he seemed willing to fill Thomas More’s shoes, and he made a significant step towards achieving that goal when the king appointed him Master of the Jewel House and making him one of his Chief Ministers.

  Cromwell, unlike Wolsey, did not appear to be driven by wealth and power, as folk said he lived in modesty and despised extravaganzas. He claimed that he only wished to help the king achieve his happiness and make his kingdom a better place to live in. He had also shown interest in the Great Matter and thus gaining the affection of his sovereign. King Henry apparently was seeing in him a powerful man with the appropriate mindset to give him what he craved most in this world, Anne Boleyn.

  Furthermore, the king received positive feedback from his envoys in the universities of Europe, as most of them were in favour of his annulment. He was thus confident that Pope Clement would at long last give the right verdict for his Great Matter. As the time passed though, and the pope refused to conclude the issue, the king became increasingly distressed and angry of this procrastination and started fearing that Pope Clement would never give a verdict, whether favourable or otherwise. Many, still loyal to the Catholic Church, were also unnerved by the pope’s delays, for they believed the king would take the ultimate step and separate the Church of England from Rome completely.

  Sure enough, after Archbishop of Canterbury William Warham, who was against the nullity of the king’s marriage died, King Henry seised the opportunity to appoint in his place a man who would be willing to carry out his wishes. That man was Thomas Cranmer, a Lutheran supporter who was certain to vouch in favour of the king. Therefore, it was a matter of time until Archbishop Cranmer would declare the king’s marriage null and void, enabling him to marry his long-time mistress Anne Boleyn, whom he had named Marquess of Pembroke, thus increasing her status at court considerably. From then on, she was queen in all but name, for she accompanied the king almost everywhere.

  In the early autumn of 1532, King Henry arranged a royal visit to France to meet with King Francis where he hoped they would discuss matters of war and pledge to fight together against the Holy Roman Emperor who had surprisingly signed a peace treaty with the heathen Turks and the Ottoman Empire in the East. The king was determined to make the visit a success and he naturally wished Anne to accompany him in France as his wife and queen to be. He thus ordered me to go to Queen Catherine and inform her that she must surrender the official jewels of the Queen of England, and whilst she initially refused, she had no option but to obey and give up her right as she said to me.

  ‘What happened to you, Sir Edward?’ Queen Catherine asked me in accented English, whilst I was collecting the boxes that contained the magnificent jewels. She was as ever dressed in her best clothes. That morrow she wore a beautiful purple velvet dress, although the lack of jewels made her look naked. She was seated in her usual spot, next to a blazing fireplace, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting, knitting.

  ‘My lady?’ I asked back, pretending ignorance.

  ‘Your behaviour has changed considerably since your father went back to Rome,’ she said. It was not a question now, but a statement.

  ‘My lady, I am not my father,’ I replied straightening up to my full height, with a big red box under each of my arms.

  ‘I am quite aware of that,’ she said. ‘What I am merely suggesting is that you do not seem to follow your lord father’s mindset and belief when it comes to matters of religion and ethics. Some even say you are a Lutheran, as your late lover was. She paid dearly for that as we all know.’

  At that moment, despite the pity I felt for her, I wanted to slap her. What did she know about religion and ethics? Her faith was nothing but what she was taught by pious men, men who would have us believe whatever they say, blindly and with no objection. ‘I only wish to serve my king and do good for him and his subjects, my lady,’ I answered after taking a deep breath.

  ‘And that includes breaking the Church of Saint Peter to pieces?’

  ‘Whatever is necessary!’

  ‘The king will get bored with his whore, Sir Edward. Sooner or later, he will. But there will be no turning back from some things. The consequences of his actions will be visible long after that woman has left his side, and he will have to live with them.’

  ‘My lady, that is not for me to judge,’ I answered diplomatically.

  ‘God punishes us for our sins, Sir Edward,’ she continued, her black eyes fixed upon mine. ‘Sometimes unprecedented ways. However, it is never late to repent.’

  ‘One would think that you are expecting my confession. Pardon me, my lady, but you are not a priest,’ I countered insolently for I could not hold my tongue further.

  ‘You will not speak to me in that way,’ she said her tone rising as she stood up from her chair. ‘I am still the Queen of England.’

  ‘Apologies, madam!’ I said bowing my head in a showcase of respect. Her blind faith would destroy her, and there was no saving of her.

  ‘Away with you!’

  I departed hot-headed and went straight to the king’s chamber to present him the jewels. However, I regretted it immediately, for the king was in an angry mood, pacing around his privy chamber ready to smash everything on his way. He was speaking with the Dukes of Suffolk and Norfolk, and they had given him some distressing news. Apparently, Anne Boleyn was not so popular amongst everyone in France. King Henry had told King Francis that he would not meet with his queen and wife as she was the sister of the Holy Roman Emperor, thus his enemy. However, the direct substitute, Francis’s sister, refused categorically to meet with the whore, Anne Boleyn. Therefore, King Francis had eventually suggested that his own mistress was willing to do the honour, but King Henry was insulted by the idea and insisted that no women would come with him beyond Calais and into Boulogne where the two sovereigns would meet.

  ‘How dare they!’ the king was shouting at no one in particular. ‘Francis would bring his mistress to the royal visit. Unspeakable!’ he said, and I almost laughed, for it was hilarious how he considered his own mistress to be his legitimate wife.

  ‘Your Majesty, surely King Francis means no offence,’ said the Duke of Norfolk.

  ‘Yes, but his sister does,’ the king countered. ‘When the women get an opinion for themselves, the world of men crumbles, gentlemen. I always knew there was too much liberty in France.’ He sat back in his chair rubbing his face with his palms. ‘I want to impress Francis. I want us to sail to his damn country with splendour. Everyone should be dressed in their best, and you shall find the most magnificent gifts for my brother king.’

  ‘Yes, Your Majesty!’ both Dukes said in unison, but with a grim expression, surely wondering how much go
ld this royal visit would cost.

  ‘In our progress to Boulogne I want you two to accompany me, along with my gentlemen of course,’ he said pointing at me. ‘My son, the Duke of Richmond will remain in Calais to greet us back when we return,’ he added, and I looked at him in disbelief. Not only did the king wished to bring his mistress to a royal visit, but now he wanted his bastard son to come along too? That was a scandal. ‘We shall stay in Boulogne for a few days and then return to Calais with Francis where he will meet our full court.’

  ‘Your Majesty!’ the dukes said bowing and then he dismissed them.

  ‘What do you have for me, Sir Edward?’ the king said as the other two exited the chamber. ‘Your Majesty, I come with the queen’s jewels,’ I said and placed the boxes on the table in front of him.

  He grinned in satisfaction. ‘You have done well, Sir Edward,’ he said peeking at the magnificent rubies inside. ‘I want you to find the best jeweller in the city and have them reset to fit Lady Anne’s delicate features; she’s much thinner than Catherine. They must be ready within two weeks’ time. Then we sail for Calais.’

  ‘As you wish, Your Majesty!’ I accepted and turned to leave.

  ‘Sir Edward!’

  ‘Majesty?’

  ‘You too must look at your best in France. And I don’t mean only your attire! You must get your smile and humour back,’ he stood and approached me. His mere presence could cause someone delirium. His red velvet doublet was astounding that day, and his golden chain around his neck was so bright as if it was made by the sun. ‘There are plenty of women at court fit for you. But I accept you might be a little bit out of form,’ he said laughing. ‘For that reason, I’ll have you arranged with some French courtesans. Ah, the French flowers are certainly not like the English ones, but they’re sweet too, and sometimes a man needs a change.’

  *

  On the seventh of October, we rode to Dover, and from there we sailed to Calais four days later. No less than two thousand people were accompanying the king to France, from royal staff to courtiers, musicians and servants. Belfrigh was also invited, along with his brother the Duke of Norfolk. Furthermore, a most unwilling Duke of Suffolk was with us, but without his wife and my half-sister Mary, who had made it quite plain that she would keep as much distance from Anne Boleyn as she could dare.