The Illegitimate Tudor

by James M Stuart

  ‘Wine?’ he offered, and without waiting for my response, he poured from a silver jag to a beautiful golden-blue goblet.

  ‘Thank you, Your Majesty,’ I said accepting the wine, not knowing what else to say.

  Next, he guided me towards the blazing fireplace on the far end of the room. It was much warmer here. Two very comfortable armchairs had been set facing each other with a small table on their midst, upon which a chessboard laid.

  ‘Do you play chess, Sir Edward?’ King Francis enquired, taking the seat on the right.

  ‘Sometimes, Your Majesty,’ I lied and sat in the left chair. In fact, I had not played chess for years and years, but I trusted I still remembered the rules. I was never fond of the game, though. I considered it somewhat tedious and for the elders. Why would a robust young man sit upon a chair and play a game with wooden pieces, whilst he could be outside doing some real sports and exercising his body at the same time?

  ‘Chess is a game to exercise your mind,’ he said as if having read my thoughts. ‘It is all about strategy and thus it is essential for us kings or for anyone that is associated with warfare. And whilst it is not a simple game, it has one simple rule. Whoever loses the king loses the game. Thankfully, this is merely wooden figures on the board. In real life, though…’

  Now he was getting his meaning out, although slowly. ‘Why have you asked to see me, Your Majesty?’ I asked straightforwardly.

  King Francis sized me up for a few seconds, as though trying to understand how much he should say. ‘The pope is a dangerous man to cross, Sir Edward,’ he said eventually and took a deep sip from his goblet. ‘You have crossed him. You have defied his wishes. You have forgotten who brought you to the place you are now.’ He was not angry, he spoke in a calm but stern tone, nonetheless.

  ‘The pope asked you to tell me this?’ I wondered and then remembering my station added, ‘Your Majesty?’

  Surprisingly King Francis answered negatively. ‘No! As a matter of fact, I sought you on my own accord. To warn you. King Henry is facing his doom. If he continues in his current course, his beloved England will be left isolated in Europe, with no allies.’

  ‘Your Majesty, isn’t this why we are all here?’ I asked the same question the mayor of Calais had asked King Henry and I received a similar answer.

  ‘I had you for a clever man, Sir Edward,’ he said. ‘So, do not pretend to be naïve. You know very well that neither party is willing to honour this alliance. It is a pretence.’

  ‘Then why are you here?’

  ‘Because I hope to bring my brother monarch back to the road of Catholicism.’

  ‘You aim to achieve that by lying to him about your true purpose?’ I asked incredulously. ‘And what about the Turks and the Holy Roman Empire?’

  ‘Please, do not insult my intelligence. England does not have the wits nor the manpower to thwart either of them and I would not waste a single French soldier on a vain war,’ King Francis answered boldly. ‘My dear Edward, the real reason we gathered here is to spy on each other, for our ambassadors can tell us so much…’

  ‘What do you want from me then? Your Majesty?’

  ‘I want you to assist me to get rid of Anne Boleyn.’

  ‘Majesty, with all due respect, I don’t believe that to be possible. The king is obsessed with her, and her family is growing stronger with each day,’ I explained plainly as though talking to a child. How could he not get it? King Henry would not stop until he had Anne Boleyn as his legitimate wife and queen.

  ‘You do not understand, messier,’ King Francis started and leaned towards me. ‘His Holiness is prepared to excommunicate Henry if he does not return to his legitimate wife Queen Catherine and banish the whore, Anne Boleyn.’

  That was the final card the pope could play, the card that never failed to win the game, for if King Henry was excommunicated from the Catholic Church that declared him also illegitimate for the throne of England and anyone could challenge his crown with the blessing of the pope and his influence behind him.

  ‘Pope Clement has even suggested to me that if we reach this point of no return, I would have his permission to invade England and claim the throne for myself. But let us not fool ourselves, such operation would take years, and only God would know the outcome. The only thing that us mortals do know is bloodshed. I do not wish that for my countrymen, nor for the good Christian people of England. It is but one woman who is causing all this mess, Sir Edward. One single, most ambitious woman; and she needs to be destroyed!’ He emptied his goblet with one long sip and leaned back in his chair with a satisfied expression on his face.

  If only he were lying, but my heart said he was not. However, there was a possibility that he was wrong at one point… If Cromwell’s claims and my speculations were correct, Thomas Boleyn was the mastermind, thus making him the most dangerous piece on the chessboard and his daughter was merely a pawn.

  *

  ‘I’m telling you, Ed,’ Belfrigh started in a hushed voice afraid of being overheard, ‘there’re rumours that the king will wed Anne Boleyn in secret before we depart for England,’ said Belfrigh a few days after King Francis had left Calais, where he had spent four days.

  ‘Yes, I heard, but why do it in secret, though?’ I wondered. ‘I mean he’s already Supreme Head of the Church of England, why doesn’t he annul his own marriage and marry the Boleyn woman to be done with it?’

  ‘Well, my brother, Thomas, believes that the king is still hopeful on the pope’s favourable verdict on his Great Matter,’ Belfrigh offered.

  We were outdoors, observing the king and other nobles shooting arrows at distant targets. However, it was proving increasingly difficult to hit the haybale targets due to the strong wind.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Belfrigh!’ I said in an angry whisper. ‘When will you stop taking Norfolk’s words for granted? I know he’s your brother, but that doesn’t make him a reliable source of information.’

  ‘This time he might have a point, you prejudiced prick,’ he countered. ‘King Francis has vowed to fight alongside England to defeat the Holy Roman Empire and the Turks, and he has also pledged in favour of Henry’s marriage annulment. He said he will use all the influence he has with Pope Clement to convince him to deliver a rapid and favourable outcome to the matter.’

  ‘I’m afraid this matter will never end Belfrigh. ’Tis not if but when the king’s marriage to Queen Catherine will be declared null and void, and her daughter a bastard, regardless of the pope’s decision.’

  ‘Perhaps!’ replied Belfrigh. ‘In any case, we should be vigilant, Ed! Especially you and your association with that cunning man, Cromwell.’

  ‘Cromwell has been nothing but helpful,’ I countered.

  ‘To what end, though? What is his real motive in helping you?’

  For that, I had no answer. I redirected my gaze back to the king, who was raging as he had just shot a stray arrow that had been blown away by the wind so wildly that it ended up seemingly miles away from its supposed target.

  Our visit to Calais was supposed to come to an end the following day, but we were forced to remain for safety reasons. The wind became even stronger in the next few days, followed by wild rain. In the end, we stayed for a further two weeks, in the space of which the king was rarely seen in public. He was mostly confined in his chambers with his mistress, and it was whispered that the two of them had already carnal knowledge with each other, despite the king vouching not to lay with her before they were married. From my perspective I deemed these whispers to be true for I could often hear muffled voices from the king’s apartments…

  As for the French courtesan Charlotte, I seemed to have stuck with her, for she would follow me everywhere.

  ‘Give her a chance, will you Ed?’ Belfrigh encouraged me. We were having dinner at the great hall, whilst outside the high winds raged lashing on to the windows and the roof.

  ‘She’s a prostitute, Belfrigh. She wants my coin,’ I countered. ‘And judging by her dr
esses, she requires a lot.’

  ‘Has she asked you for payment?’ Belfrigh asked.

  ‘No!’

  ‘So, she might be genuinely interested in you,’ he added.

  I paused thinking. Was it possible? After Eleanor’s death I had not courted any lady, nor did I have an intimate relationship with one. I kept my distance and my head clear, although as Belfrigh had said to me once, there was nothing better to clear one’s mind than a good humping.

  ‘Com’on don’t tell me your head is so full of Francis’s bullshit that you’ve forgotten how to use your prick.’

  ‘’Tis not a laughing matter, Belfrigh,’ I countered. I had told Belfrigh everything the French King had told me a few days before.

  ‘Look, I remember one thing my father told me when I was a child…’

  I gazed at him curiously, for he rarely spoke of his father, and when he did it was only to discredit or curse him a thousand times.

  ‘I know he was an awful man, and may he burn in Hell for all eternity,’ he added, apparently having deduced my thoughts, ‘but I think he was right at one single thing: the French are not to be trusted!’

  That very night, Charlotte came to my chamber.

  ‘’Tis not a good time, Charlo-’ I started saying when I opened the door, but when I gazed upon her, I froze instantly.

  She was wearing only a linen robe, so thin almost transparent. It was lashed at her waist but exposed all the good parts of her body. Her hair was loosely gathered over her left shoulder, whilst her dark blue eyes were shining, full of lust; her full lips were coloured rose-red and were slightly parted…

  ‘Shush!’ she said in a soft voice, placing a thin finger on my lips. ‘Tonight, you will not send me away.’

  She pushed me gently towards the bed and traced her right hand on my groin. Suddenly, I felt wide awake whilst moments ago I was ready to fall asleep…

  ‘Charlotte, I-’

  ‘Why are you still talking, my lord?’ she asked with a sweet smile and undid her robe…

  I’m sorry, Eleanor! I thought afterwards.

  To lay with another woman whilst Eleanor had died because of me felt like a betrayal.

  Forgive me, my love, for I am only a man!

  ‘Are you thinking of her?’ Charlotte asked, lying next to me, her head resting on her arm.

  ‘Yes!’ I answered truthfully.

  ‘Then I will have no regrets!’ she said and loosed her hair completely.

  ‘What’re you talking about?’ Before I had time to think she brandished a tiny knife towards me, aiming for my chest. I instinctively rolled over on the other side falling off the bed, but not before she had scarred me across the face. ‘What is this? You were sent here to kill me?’

  ‘I am sorry, my lord,’ Charlotte started holding the knife in a tight grip. ‘They paid me dearly for this task.’

  ‘Who paid you?’ I asked extending my arms, the four-poster bed between us. I touched my right cheek and realised I was bleeding.

  She did not answer; her look was fearful now.

  ‘WHO SENT YOU?’ I shouted. Again, I did not receive a response. With a rapid manoeuvre, I traced my hand under the bed where I found my longsword resting in its scabbard. I drew it immediately hearing the satisfying sound of the unsheathing sword and pointed at her. ‘So, you failed,’ I said after a few seconds of silence. ‘What now? You think you can overpower me, with that knife as your weapon?’

  She took a few steps forward. ‘They will kill me if I fail!’

  ‘Who?’ I asked, but she remained silent. ‘ANSWER ME!’

  ‘I-I don’t know, sir!’ she answered, starting to cry. ‘The man who paid me was hooded, but he was English for certain. He threatened to rape and torture me; then kill me.’

  ‘You have nothing to fear, Charlotte,’ I assured her. ‘I will protect you. Now put down that knife so we can be rid of our hostilities.’

  Gazing directly into my eyes she held the small knife high. ‘I want to believe you, sir. But I cannot, I cannot suffer this again… He will not rest until he captures me and...’ At this point, her voice cracked, and tears started trickling down her beautiful flustered cheeks. ‘Maybe you can stop him.’

  ‘I will if you should tell me who’s threatening you,’ I urged her. ‘You said he was English. That could be anyone in the King’s Court.’ Although I knew that only a handful of men were capable of such deeds. ‘Did you see his face through the hood, at all?’

  ‘N-No, sir!’ she said stuttering, ‘but I think I might know who it was,’ she added, her armed hand started lowering now.

  I half-circled the bed slowly and approached her, my sword still on my right hand but low, pointing at my feet. ‘It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you,’ I reassured her. When I finally reached her, I gently caught her raised hand and removed the small knife, tossing it away on the other side of the room. Then satisfied for my safety, I let the sword fall on the floor with a thud and hugged her. She cried with spasms under my arms, and it was a long time until she had relaxed... Even with her face puffy, she was beautiful, and I could scarcely fathom the horrors she had endured in her past.

  She then spoke two single words: ‘Thomas Boleyn!’

  *

  The storm had finally ceased, and we sailed back to Dover in a great reception for the king’s party. Upon our arrival to London a few days later, the king and his household went to Saint Paul’s Cathedral to give our thanks to God for our safe return and for the success of our visit to France. If only the king knew how disastrous and costly that visit could prove…

  Charlotte had returned to Paris after our departure, although I offered to take her with me to England as my mistress, she refused. She was too scared that her old torturer would find out and seek retaliation for her betrayal. It was thus safer that she stayed as far away from him as possible.

  She had told me everything! Apparently, Charlotte and Thomas Boleyn were old acquaintances, from the time when Boleyn was the English ambassador in Paris. She was a young courtesan in King Francis’s Court, but the king had gifted her to Boleyn. She claimed that he repeatedly abused her and did unimaginable things to satisfy his perversity…

  When the Boleyns returned to England for good, she was freed and thought she had escaped from the Devil himself. However, when King Francis sent her to Calais along with other courtesans to entertain the English Court, she feared she would meet him again. So, she had, and the repulsive Thomas Boleyn had ordered her to seduce me and then cut my throat.

  Furthermore, Charlotte’s secrets about Boleyn contained more than just the tortures and humiliations she had endured. They confirmed Cromwell’s claims about Boleyn and his two daughters. Charlotte would have been a witness in our case to destroy the Boleyn family. However, I did not want to pressure her, as her already troubled soul had cracked her.

  Now, at last having known Thomas Boleyn’s character and aspirations from one of his victims, I was ready to bring him down. I would have to plot something to destroy him before the damage he had inflicted upon the king was irreversible, because whatever Cromwell said if Anne Boleyn sat upon the throne and gave the king a son, it would be the end of England as we knew it.

  And then before I had time to act, it happened. A few weeks before Christmas, a jubilant king announced to me that Anne was pregnant and was sure to be a son. Furthermore, he was preparing a secret marriage, for he could not wait for the annulment anymore.

  ‘Archbishop Cranmer will declare my marriage to Catherine null and void within the next few days, Sir Edward,’ the king said to me. He was having breakfast, and I was standing on the side of his table ready to tend to his every need. ‘But why wait? It is a certainty now. The Hell with Pope Clement. By the time, the annulment is ready from Cranmer, we’ll be prepared for Anne’s coronation. She will officially be crowned my queen in the new year.’

  ‘I am glad for Your Majesty’s happiness,’ I said through greeted teeth.

  Unlike me, the other Gentl
emen of the Privy Chamber, including Sir Henry Norris, who was the Groom of the Stool and an old friend of the king’s, seemed genuinely overjoyed.

  ‘Your Majesty this is most wonderful news,’ Norris said.

  ‘Thank you, gentlemen!’ the king said as he devoured a big piece of meat, which he seemed to eat on every meal now, resulting in his belly capacity to increase considerably in the last couple of years. He had also grown his beard more than I had ever seen him; maybe it was because he wanted to hide the growing fatness of his chin.

  ‘I trust we shall have to find some wives for the both of you, now,’ he added licking his fingers and pointing at Norris and me. ‘Sir Henry, I know you are a widower. So, I see no reason why you shall not seek happiness again.’

  ‘I believe Your Majesty is right, I have grown old and solemn, and I would be comforted by a female companion in my twilight years upon God’s Earth,’ Norris concurred. Like me, he was wearing a black, and red doublet with the Tudor Rose on his chest, black trousers and matching tall boots.

  ‘Indeed!’ said the king who was as always in his best dressing, that morrow wearing a purple velvet doublet, a great golden chain around his neck and numerous rings on his fingers. ‘The new queen will have new ladies-in-waiting; the best in the realm, I assure you. And you, Sir Edward, you are over thirty, I trust. Why haven’t you married still?’

  ‘Your Majesty, I haven’t found the right woman yet,’ I gave him the answer he wanted to hear, for otherwise, I would attack him and severe that happy face for not doing anything to save Eleanor.

  ‘I shall help you find it,’ he promised. ‘You have been most faithful on my cause, and I consider you to be a true Englishman, despite your father being Cardinal Campeggio, who along with Pope Clement, continues to deny me righteousness,’ he said and devoured the last piece of his meat, and I frowned in misery.