Falling For Henry

by Beverley Brenna

  “Elizabeth of York was the niece of King Richard,” piped Mary. “She had long yellow hair, down to her waist. And she loved to speak French, but I do not!”

  “Hush, Mary, do not speak of Mother by her given name—it is not polite,” said Henry, looking sternly at his sister.

  “Why couldn’t Father just become King without killing King Richard?” Mary asked peevishly. “He had royal blood, too!”

  “Father’s only a distant relative of the royal family, remember?” answered Henry. “But no one could be a stronger king than Father, so you see, in the end, he was God’s choice, and it was right he took the army to defeat King Richard.”

  Kate thought of the story of the two little princes in the Tower, Richard’s nephews, and how, if they happened to be found as adults, they would have some claim to the throne. Their story was somehow connected to William’s father, accused of plotting against the King.

  “I don’t like armies,” said Mary absently. “They make me a little bit sick. Thinking of all the killing. But I marvel much that perhaps you are right, brother. Out of death comes life.”

  “Edmund was the first to die,” Henry continued, talking to himself now as if Kate and Mary weren’t there. “And then Arthur, a year later. And then Mother, in childbirth, with the baby.” He stood and walked the length of the room, lost in his thoughts, as if pondering what good could come out of all the deaths he had known.

  “It was just a doll,” said Mary, breaking into his soliloquy. “Not a real baby. Oww, Katherine, you’re pulling!”

  “Sorry,” said Kate, her face hot with the mix of feelings going on inside her. Yearning. Empathy. And love.

  After Kate finished the child’s hair, they talked of other things and, by the time they went to the lunch table, Henry’s sadness as well as Mary’s sleeves were all but forgotten. The depth of Kate’s feelings she contained well in a mix of casual conversation and lively questions for Mary. Her heart, however, was brimming, and she was glad to see Henry finally joking happily again with his sister. Kate watched the two of them a bit longingly. They were lucky to have each other. How hard it would be to lose a sibling, and Henry had lost three. Does Willow realize she has lost me? Kate wondered, and then pushed the thought away.

  I’m better off here, she said to herself, reaching for joy. That’s my new motto!

  Women are not meant to know, but to do, Doña Elvira had told her. That was rubbish, but Kate could fit in if she kept her alternative ideas to herself. She knew with certainty that this was where she belonged.

  19

  The new philosophy

  “HAVE YOU EVER seen the dungeons?” Henry asked, after they had dined and Jane Popincourt had bribed Mary away to study her French. His tutor was indisposed and, without lessons, the Prince clearly planned to devote his entire day to Kate.

  Kate wondered if he had some particular purpose in mentioning the dungeons. Perhaps that was where William’s father was detained, she mused. Then she remembered that William had said, “the Tower.” Were they one and the same place?

  “You travel down narrow stone steps,” Henry went on, “feeling the air grow cooler and damper, as if it were biting into the very marrow of your bones. Then you come to the cells, manacles attached to the stone walls to hold resisting prisoners.”

  Kate couldn’t help but notice the boyish enthusiasm with which he spoke. The architecture of things clearly fascinated him.

  “If the prisoners try to escape before we hang them,” Henry continued, “we can always tie them down, although then the rats make quick work of them.”

  “The rats?” repeated Kate, feeling slightly sick.

  “Not very humane, is it,” said Henry, a bit defensively. “But we do try to make sure most of the prisoners only spend a few days in captivity—otherwise it gets quite costly.”

  “And then where do they go?” she asked.

  “They’re hanged by the neck until they are dead, of course,” he said. “And it is rather useful to have them close to the court, as barren women are advised to approach the dead ones hand to hand as a way to improve fertility. Of course, Doña Elvira would have told you that?”

  “Of course,” said Kate.

  “I imagine she has taught you a great deal,” said Henry. “She is a wise woman, a cunning woman, indeed. And we will always take care of her. There will be no suggestion of witchcraft as far as Doña Elvira is concerned.”

  Kate kept silent. What was he getting at? she thought uneasily.

  “If the prisoners are charged with treason,” Henry went on, “there is the disemboweling and quartering, as well. Traitors must be severely punished as an example.”

  “And what if someone is imprisoned unfairly?” Kate blurted.

  “The King is never wrong,” Henry said firmly. “No one would be imprisoned without cause.”

  “But what if it were a mistake?” Kate pressed.

  “The King,” Henry said loudly, “does not make mistakes!” Anger flashed in his eyes, and Kate saw that she had taken a wrong turn in the conversation. Doing away with anyone accused of breaking the law was simply cheaper, whether or not the person was guilty.

  “Traitors and plagues,” Henry went on hotly, “are the scourge of the kingdom. And both are partners with death.”

  “Penicillin,” Kate blurted before she could help herself.

  “What?” asked Henry, startled out of his temper.

  “If you had medicine to kill the virus that caused the plagues, you’d cure the illness,” she muttered.

  Henry studied her carefully.

  “A curious notion,” he said finally. “I had no idea you thought deeply about such things. I can see that we shall have a great deal to talk about.”

  He was smiling at her, his blue eyes clear again, and merry, and Kate, charmed, smiled in return. It was a new sensation to be speaking freely with a boy she liked. Usually she found it hard to say anything worthwhile.

  “The Tower,” he went on, returning to his original subject, “is for the refined prisoners who might be held for longer stays. Strong wooden grilles make fast the doorways of each of the chambers, and inside are placed a chamber pot and a stone dais that serves as the bed. White sunlight streams through the high windows, often enough to read by should occupants have book learning. There are rushes on the floor, which generally look and smell … repulsive.” He shook his head. “Unfortunately, there is little privacy.”

  The princes would have been miserable in the Tower, thought Kate, remembering again the nephews of Richard III who had been imprisoned there. Poor little things. Katherine’s memories opened onto the whole story. Aged ten and thirteen, the boys had been a threat to the King, and, although he had overtly placed them in the Tower for their own safety, the boys had disappeared in 1483, never to be seen again.

  “Edward and Richard,” murmured Kate, recalling their names.

  “What?” said Henry sharply.

  “Edw—”

  “We do not speak of them!” he interrupted.

  “I … I beg your pardon,” said Kate. “I am not sure—”

  “My mother was their sister,” Henry said. “And she forbade us to speak of them. I won’t expect to remind you of this again.”

  “No, of course … of course not,” said Kate. So Henry VII had married Edward and Richard’s older sister, Elizabeth of York, strengthening his right to the throne even though he’d already won the Crown in battle. The King certainly wouldn’t want Richard III’s nephews turning up as adults to challenge his right to the crown. That explained why he imprisoned anyone suspected of looking for them, and why William’s father was being confined, although William said his father was innocent.

  “A person wouldn’t want to cross the Crown,” said Henry. “One might end up spending a good deal of time in the Tower, or seeing a loved one there in one’s place.”

  “Enough talk of Towers,” said Kate. “I have not yet seen where th
e King’s ale is made; let us go and have a look.”

  Standing, he took her arm and they left the table, going past the kitchens to the brew house. Then they strolled back to the outside rooms of the great chamber, which led to the private area where the royal family resided. Kate suddenly wondered if Henry was going to take her into his own bedroom, but he did not, nor did they go back to the study where they had been with Mary. Instead, he showed her into an elegant stateroom, where signs of the zodiac decorated the walls and gray fur pelts covered the floor. Wolf pelts? thought Kate.

  “What shall we see next?” he asked, surveying her quizzically and then unrolling a large map that was kept in a corner. “The libraries are not generally open to women; however we could make an exception with Mother’s library, as we have done before. Perhaps you’d like to stroll through one of the gardens, or we could tour the orchards? Or return to the dovecots and fishpond? The well by the pond has the sweetest water anywhere, and I have been meaning to go and see about one of the gardens, where I note William has been lingering. There must be some fruit left there if he’s so keen to hang about all the time. He’s been known to bribe the kitchen staff to make preserves, which somehow manage to reach his father.”

  “Where is his father?” asked Kate, feigning ignorance.

  “Where all traitors should be,” said Henry. “Except it is possible he will receive a light sentence when my father has the time to consider it.”

  “Will that be soon?” asked Kate, hopefully.

  “Not likely,” said Henry. “There is a lot of business involved in running a country. My father is extremely occupied.”

  Too busy to release an innocent man? thought Kate. She couldn’t imagine having a father who was that busy. Her own dad had always been available, home whenever she was and always ready with a story or a joke. She thought again of the roughness of his cheek, of the woodsy scent of his aftershave, and longed to be with him. There was so much to ask, so many details of his life she hadn’t explored. But of course, she would never have a second chance. Instead of allowing the sadness to fill her like an empty glass, she willed the curtain to drop, masking unpleasant thoughts. Time to reach for joy, she thought, and smiled at Henry.

  “Does the water we drink come from another well?” Kate asked brightly, trying to distract the Prince from the idea of going out to see the garden. If he poked around the garden, he’d surely discover the wolf cub hidden there. And if the Prince saw the cub, it would surely mean its death and possibly a severe penalty for William Fitzroy.

  “My goodness, you ask odd questions,” said Henry. “Two wells closer to the castle serve most of our needs—however the water there tastes, I have heard, of mice.”

  “But the Thames is close by,” Kate went on. “Why don’t people just drink from it?”

  “Did Arthur not talk to you about anything?” Henry asked.

  Kate blushed.

  “Not … not really,” she said. “We did not … you know Arthur had a lengthy illness and even before that, he—”

  Here she stopped, but Henry said, “Go on.”

  “Well, as you know, we were married only a few months. He was very kind. But not really a husband, if you know what I mean.”

  “Ah,” said Henry delicately. “I had wondered about that.” After a small silence, he went on. “The Thames is made putrid from the refuse flowing out of the garderobes.” Kate almost laughed aloud at his change of subject, but she contained herself and listened further.

  “Well water is much preferable,” Henry went on, “when one has to drink water at all. I have an idea for persuading water to climb stairs,” he said, obviously pleased with himself, “and when I have a chance, I am going to build a model to see if the pressure is satisfactory. One can always improve on current practice, don’t you think?” She nodded. “And surely there must be a better way to equip the toilets with some sort of constant cleaning system! Avoid the stink that carries the corrupt vapors.”

  “Germs aren’t carried through smells but through person-to-person contact,” contradicted Kate. Henry’s eyes flashed.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” he said and his cheeks flushed with impending temper. “Everyone knows that foul air breeds illness due to poisonous fumes.”

  “I’m not wrong,” Kate retorted, disregarding the warning signs. “Sickness can also be contracted by touching surfaces that have been contaminated. But it’s not caught simply by breathing bad smells.”

  The Prince grabbed her arm.

  “Stop talking about something you don’t know enough about!” he said hotly.

  “Maybe I know more than you think!” answered Kate.

  “No girl knows as much as I do,” said Henry bluntly, his mouth in a firm line. “Although I expect they wish they did.”

  Kate stopped herself from another retort. Henry’s face was almost purple it was so red, and she could see a muscle throbbing in his neck. She was glad when the jester appeared, as if by magic, to break the tension. Even Kate offered a faint smile at the motley attire of the fellow—brightly colored patchwork clothes with bells tied around the knees, and a horned hat.

  “Sir, what say ye with your fat face?” quipped the Fool.

  The line of Henry’s mouth hardened even further and Kate wondered if he were going to fight this bold clown. Then the prince grinned and it appeared the storm had passed.

  “Have you forgotten it’s ale tasting day, your royal head? Chase me down the stairs and I’ll ask you a riddle.”

  “Tournament day? I had forgotten!” said Henry delightedly. “What’s the riddle, Patch? Tell me now for I’ll not be forestalled.”

  “What walks on no legs at dawn, then four legs at noon, two legs at dusk, and then finally back to none at night?” cried the fellow, swinging something on a pointed stick that Kate thought looked suspiciously like the internal organ of some deceased animal.

  “Hmm, let me think,” said the Prince.

  “Man,” said Kate. Her father had told her this one and she’d had to work out that the description referred to a baby, then a crawling child, an adult, and finally an old person in bed. Patch shot her a wary look, and Henry paused for just a moment before nodding rather sheepishly.

  “A point for Katherine, surely. But now we must prepare for the tournament! Patch, please walk the princess back to her chambers, for I have things to do!” Without waiting for a reply, Henry strode off, and the Fool looked blandly at Kate.

  “Come along then,” he sang. “One, two, nine!”

  Running ahead of her, he executed three back flips and then walked on his hands until they’d reached the door to her rooms. One of the maids, scurrying about with linens, laughed uproariously at the sight of Patch.

  “Everyone come and look!” she cried. “’Is arms and legs ’ave changed places!” Other servants ran over to share the fun.

  Flipping right way up, the jester bowed low to all the ladies and then scurried off down the corridor.

  “Patch!” called a young voice. “Come here! I want you to play mumchance with me!” It was Princess Mary.

  Kate knew how to play this game. You shuffled the cards and then laid the pack face down. Each player called out the name of a card and you took turns turning cards over until that card was exposed, earning a point for the first to have predicted it. Then you began again and the game was over when someone reached ten points.

  “It isn’t fair!” she heard Mary cry. “Patch won’t play with me! No one wants to play with me!”

  Kate called after her, “Princess, come here and I’ll play the game.” The golden-haired child appeared, smiling again, and the two of them sat over cards by the fire for an hour or so. Doña Elvira watched with a curious expression, and Kate wondered if Katherine had played much with Mary. Kate’s heart went out to the lonely little girl. No mother, a father occupied with foreign affairs, an older brother too busy to play, and an older sister already married off
to a Scottish King who was sixteen years older than she was! What did life have in store for this child? Kate wished she had paid more attention in history class.

  “I have to use the garderobe,” said Mary after a while. She skipped off and Kate looked at the fire burning in the grate. She didn’t want to think about those toilets, smelly as they were in spite of the green cloth that covered the stone holes until removed by the user. Henry’s plans to make the facilities more sanitary would come none too soon.

  The sound of festivities outside brought Doña Elvira to Kate’s side. “We shall be attending,” said the nurse. “Dress in something finer than that old blue gown. Or at least wear one of your good cloaks. The one with the nice miniver lining.”

  “I’m going to go and change,” announced Mary, dancing back into the room. “I always wear my best things to tournaments. But I don’t have the yellow sleeves. How can I go without my good sleeves?” Her voice rose to a loud wail and Kate knew she had to act quickly.

  “Your white sleeves are better because they won’t distract the horses. Horses always look at yellow, and the riders might not go as fast if the horses are always looking your way.”

  “Really?” asked Mary, considering.

  “Really!” said Kate. “Just like bulls always go after red.”

  “I marvel much at that,” said Mary slowly. “I had heard about the bulls, of course. But the horses. That’s something new.”

  “Come see my nice cloak,” Kate went on, pulling the younger girl toward her closet. “So soft and warm, you’ll never guess what it is made of.” She herself didn’t know what miniver was, but no matter—the girl was already stroking the soft fur.

  “It would take a lot of squirrels to make this,” said Mary. “How many, do you think? A hundred? Two hundred?”

  “A hundred and fifty,” said Kate, gently guiding Mary toward the passage. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.” Doña Elvira followed and when they got outside, the old nurse told Mary all about what they were going to see.

  It’s handy to have a child around, thought Kate. People explain things to children, and that can be useful! Her head was spinning with all the new information as she prepared to watch the fair. It didn’t sound particularly fun but, in spite of her predictions, the day turned out to be interesting. First, they watched the jousting. Heralded by trumpeteers announcing the beginning of the match, two armored knights rode against each other and used their lances to try and dismount their opponent.