Fitzroy:
The Boy Who
Would Be King
Kathleen S. Allen
***
Fitzroy: The Boy Who Would Be King
Copyright © 2011 by Kathleen S. Allen
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Published at Smashwords by Kathleen S. Allen
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ISBN 10: 1461195092
ISBN 13: 978-1461195092 Kathleen S. Allen
***
Prologue - The Birth of a Son
Chapter 1 - Coming to Court
Chapter 2 - A Boy Becomes a Duke
Chapter 3 - Fitzroy Meets Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey
Chapter 4 - Back at Court
Chapter 5 - The Fall of Wolsey
Chapter 6 - The Death of Wolsey
Chapter 7 - Fitzroy and Mark Spy on the Queen
Chapter 8 - Fitzroy Gets More Titles
Chapter 9 - Midnight Games
Chapter 10 - July 1533
Chapter 11 - The Birth of Elizabeth
Chapter 12 - Marriage Woes
Chapter 13 - Fitzroy Marries
Chapter 14 - The Act of Succession
Chapter 15 - Anne Delivers a Son
Chapter 16 - Mark Keeps a Secret
Chapter 17 - Henry VIII Has a New Love
Chapter 18 - Uprising in Lincolnshire
Chapter 19 - Bloodletting
Chapter 20 - Fitzroy Visits the Tower of London
Chapter 21 - The End of Days
***
PROLOGUE
15 June 1519 in the Year of Our Lord
The Birth of a Son
The guard barred the entrance. He stood in front of the door with his sword drawn ready to use it if provoked.
“The King does not want to be disturbed,” the guard said. “I have told you that he does not want visitors this night. Take your leave sir before you regret it!”
“I know that he does not wish to be disturbed, I would not disturb him unless it was not important. Now give way!” The man in the black hooded cloak insisted.
The guard refused to move. “I will not give way. If you do not leave I will call the other guards and you will be taken to the Tower of London and arrested!” The guard glared at the man who was pacing in front of him.
The man stopped pacing. “He will want to hear this news boy, make way!” The man tried to shove past the guard but the guard would not let him pass.
“Only for matters of state and then only if the Kingdom is in ruin,” he said. “The King will not be disturbed until morning.” He glared at the man again. “Now leave or I will have to run you through!” He pointed his sword at the man, the tip dangerously close to the man’s stomach.
He refused to step back.“You will be in ruin if you do not let me in!” The man put his hood down and unfastened the cloak so that it fell to the floor at his feet.
Underneath the cloak he wore a red Cardinal’s cape and cap.
“Your honor, Sir! I-I am sorry I did not recognize you. Go in. Please accept my apologies.” The guard bowed low putting his sword back in the scabbard around his waist. He held the door to the King’s apartments open. Inside was the Privy Chamber that led to his bedchamber. The Cardinal pushed past him in such a hurry that the guard fell against the doorway almost losing his balance. He righted himself. He shut the door as soon as the Cardinal was through.
The room stank of sweat, old food and other smells the Cardinal did not want to identify.
He wrinkled his nose before speaking. “Your Majesty, you must wake, I have news!” The Cardinal swept the red velvet curtains that were fringed in gold away from the bedchamber. His fingers came away dusty. The king, who was thankfully alone, stirred in his sleep.
“Who is that?” he mumbled turning over away from the noise.
“It’s Wolsey, Sire, I have news for you.” The king sighed before turning back over to face Wolsey. He sat up. He rubbed his fists in his eyes like a small boy who was rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He yawned. A huge yawn. His breath was foul. Wolsey wanted to step back but was afraid the king would take offense.
Henry smacked his lips and scratched his chest in an absent minded way. “Wine, I need something to drink before I hear this news of yours.” The ripe smell Wolsey had noticed when he first entered the room was stronger the closer he got to the king. He took a step back and hoped the king would not notice. He noticed that Henry was growing a beard, or attempting to. It was no more than a mere shadow on his face and chin. He smiled to himself. The king, at the ripe old age of 28 was trying to make himself appear older than his years.
“What are you smiling about, Wolsey?” Grumpy from lack of sleep he held out a hand for his wine glass which sat on the table across the room.
Wolsey was incensed. How dare the king ask him to be his servant and fetch his wine goblet for him? He fumed but brought the glass to the outstretched hand trying not to touch the hand itself.
The king drank then handed him back the glass. “It is as cold as a witch’s teat in here; let us have the fire stoked. Boy!” he called.
The door opened and the same guard, looking terrified poked his head in.“Your Majesty?”
“Stir the fire up and bring me more wine and another glass for the Cardinal. Hurry up boy!”
The guard ran into the room and stirred the fire so that the embers could reignite but all that he did was make them smoke. The room filled with smoke adding to the smell. Wolsey was tired. He wished the boy would hurry up.
The king began to cough waving a hand in the air. “Stop, make a new fire. I cannot breathe with that smoke in here. Open the windows boy! Give us some air to breathe!”
Cardinal Wolsey stood swaying on his feet. He was exhausted having just ridden in from Essex, more than a day’s journey away from the King’s palace. The roads were bumpy and full of holes that caused his backside to ache. He shifted on his feet to ease the ache. He wished the king would see how exhausted he was and offer him a chair. He looked with longing at a chair that sat near the fire. Perhaps if he stood next to it the king would get the hint. Wolsey walked over to the chair resting his arm on the back of it.
The king ignored Wolsey. He adjusted his once white nightshirt that was now stained with food and wine spills. He looked up at Wolsey who looked as if he would collapse any moment now.
He indicated the chair Wolsey was leaning against with a wide sweeping hand. “Sit down Wolsey before you fall down.” He ran his hands through his reddish hair, worn long in the fashion of the day. He waited until Wolsey sat down. “Now what is this news that is so important you have to wake me from a sweet dream?” The king’s beady eyes stared at Wolsey who shifted in his chair.
The guard handed the king a glass of wine bowing low before the King. He turned and handed one to Wolsey and then backed out of the room shutting the door again. The king watched him go. He yawned again. He looked at Wolsey. “Well, out with it, Thomas what say you?”
Wolsey took a much needed sip of his wine before answering. The wine was bitter, Wolsey frowned before answering. He put the goblet down on a table near the chair not wanting to drink any more of it. “Bessie has had her child.”
The king looked puzzled. “Bessie?”
“Blount, she was with child so I sent her from court on your recommendation.” The king still looked puzzled. “Blonde hair, blue eyes, Lady-in-Waiting to Queen Katherine? Young girl?”
The light finally dawned. “Ah, Bess, yes, I wondered what had become of her. So she had my child so soon? What was it, another girl I will reckon?” The king took a sip of his wine from a goblet that was ringed in jewels of white, blue, red and green and made of heavy gold. He ran his index finger around the rim of the goblet with a thoughtful gesture. He let his eyes watch his finger circle around the rim twice then raised them to Wolsey’s eyes. “Well?” He appeared to be holding his breath.
“It is not another girl, Sire but a boy. A healthy boy with a cry that would wake the dead I would wager.” He grinned at Henry who grinned back at him.
“A boy? And he lives? Not like the other two from Katherine who died before being born or shortly thereafter?”
“He appears healthy and strong or so says Dr. Butts, your court physician who attended her.”
“By God I am blessed!” The king jumped up spilling his wine in his haste to set it down, he ignored the red wine stain that seeped and spread across the front of his white nightdress.
But Wolsey noticed the stain and got a sudden chill. Henry bounded out of bed and grabbed Wolsey by the shoulders lifting him straight out of the chair. “I have a son Thomas, at long last, a son! A healthy son that lives!” He danced the two of them around the room laughing his hearty laugh that shook the very walls of the room.
The guard came in to see what was wrong and smiled at the two men dancing. As soon as Wolsey saw the guard he stopped and so did Henry. Henry was breathing hard but not as hard as Wolsey who was used to finer living and did not venture on a horse unless it was attached to a cart or a wagon. And then only if forced. He did not like to travel beyond his own residence. His bones ached for his bed and for the warmth that his wife could give him.
“To bed, Thomas you look all undone. I will have a room prepared for you here.”
Wolsey held up a hand. “I prefer my own bed, Your Majesty. It is not far. Thank you for seeing me so late.” He bowed and the king held out his hand for him to kiss. Wolsey held his breath as he kissed the King’s ring and then stood waiting to be dismissed.
“You may go,Wolsey but I want my son under your tutelage. Arrange it. You will be his Godfather. His name shall be Henry Fitzroy which means son of Henry. Now go; rest now for in the morning we will have much to do.” He grinned at the Cardinal. Almost as an afterthought he said, “Arrange for Bess to be married to someone, I do not care who but make sure she lives far from the court.” He paused. “Go to your wife, Thomas.”
“Your Majesty knows that as a Man of God I am not allowed a wife.”
“The Pope is in Rome, not in London, Thomas. Enjoy your night and leave me to enjoy mine in peace.” He turned to go back into his bed, noticed the wine stain and bellowed for his boy to bring him a clean nightshirt. Wolsey’s mind was on his own comfortable bed that his aching bones longed for, and the warm supper that awaited him.
***
Queen Katherine was furious when she found out Henry meant to have the boy and his mother at court. “I refuse to have that bastard child and his whore of a mother here,” she said in her softly-accented voice. “As a Catholic and a noble of the Spanish court and your queen, I forbid it.”
“I wish to have the boy learn the ways of the court,” Henry said glaring at her.
“No, I refuse. No.”
But eventually he wore her down. She agreed to have the boy educated by a court tutor but did not want to see the mother. “She mocks me with her son,” Katherine said looking at Henry with sad eyes. “She knows that I cannot have a son and she will flaunt him in my face.”
“Bess would not do that, she is a kind girl,” Henry said. He wrinkled his brow trying to remember what she looked like but no image came to him. “I will bring the boy to court and you will not have a say in this matter any longer.”
***
Chapter 1
1525 in the Year of Our Lord
Coming to Court
The red-bearded man towered over the boy as he held out an instrument with strings on it.
“It’s a lute, boy. It belonged to my father, Henry the Seventh.”
“Take it,” his mother said. “It’s a gift.” The boy stepped up to the man and took the lute.
He bowed. “Thank you Your Majesty,” he said.
The man guffawed. “You may call me Father,” the King said.
The boy lowered his eyes to the floor and shook his head. “I cannot,” he said glancing at his mother who sat at the trestle table with her hands in her lap. She smiled at him. He knew that this man was his father. His mother had told him so, many times. He had wondered why his name was not the same as hers, Blount. But he was called Henry Fitzroy. She explained that it meant “son of Henry.” He was the son of the King of England. But he had never met him until today. Just yesterday they had watched from their window in Durham House on the Strand as King Henry’s barge had traveled down the Thames with great ceremony. Trumpeters heralded the way with flags waving. All of the court seemed to be on the barge looking bright and colorful smiling and laughing at the crowds that lined the banks. “Make way for the King! Your Majesty, King Henry the Eighth!” The yeomen shouted. The people shouted back, “Good King
Hal!”, and “Long live the King!” They tossed flowers into the river as the barge passed. Fitzroy threw rose petals---plucked from their stems--- into the air watching them float with little effort down to the water where they drifted lazily among the many others. The King had waved, and shouted to him and to his mother as the barge passed.
“Bess! Fitzroy!” That made his mother laugh and her pale cheeks turn scarlet. Some of her blonde hair had escaped her cap and curled around her face. She had pleasing features with a long aristocratic nose that Fitzroy had inherited. He had his father’s blue eyes and red full lips that formed a bow. Now he searched the King’s face looking for more signs he was truly his father.
“He is a good man, your father, the King,” she said as she had said many other times. Fitzroy only knew him from afar. The King did not visit them, though he sent them money and gifts and kept them in this house. But now, he was here and Fitzroy was afraid.
His mother and the King---his father---talked with their heads together. Fitzroy heard something about his mother marrying but she refused as she always had whenever the subject had come up. Now they were talking louder but Fitzroy tuned them out. He stuffed his hands into his tunic and wadded it up into a ball. He did not want the King to see his hands shaking with nervousness.
“Well, boy?” The King asked. Fitzroy jumped he was so startled. He shook his head. He had not heard the question. He was too deep in his thoughts. “What say you?”
“Mother?” Fitzroy asked hoping she would save him from appearing stupid in front of the King.
“It will be good to have you learn the ways of court.”
“Learn the ways of court?” he asked as if he had not heard what she had said. The whole of the bottom of his tunic was now stuffed into his hands. He felt as if he would be sick. He swallowed several times.
The king guffawed again. “Have you not been listening boy? Have you not ears to hear with? You are to come with me to Windsor Castle to be knighted. After that you will be tutored by a great tutor and learn to be a lord and gentleman.” The King’s blue eyes sparkled. Fitzroy looked down at the lute lying on the table in front of him. “And after a time you shall come to London to learn the ways of the court. But first I will establish you as my son and you shall be known as Henry Fitzroy, Duke of Richmond.” He looked at the boy.
“May I take the lute?” he asked. “And my mother?” Both the King and his mother laughed. He realized what he had said and his ears turned bright red with shame. Of course he should have asked about Mother first. I am a stupid, stupid boy, he thought.
“You may bring the lute but your mother will stay here for a time.” The King glanced at his mother. “Your mother is to be married soon. Gilbert Tailboys, who has land in Lincolnshire, has asked for her hand in marriage. She will live there.”
His mother looked as if she was about to say something then changed her mind. She nodded at him.
“Lincolnshire? Is it far from London?” Fitzroy asked.
“Not too far, a few days ride,” his mother said tears shining in her eyes.
“No!” Fitzroy shouted as he rushed up to his mother. He threw his arms around her and clasped her around the waist in a tight grip. “I will go with you.”
She disentangled his arms from around her. “No, Henry, your place is with your father. He has generously offered to teach you the ways of court. You will be taught by men who know much of the world. Once you have learned all there is to learn then you will go to court. You will be a nobleman with all the entitlements.”
“I do not wish to be a nobleman if it means I will have to leave you,” Fitzroy said as tears streaked his cheeks. “Why can you not come to court?”
The king snickered into his beard. “I daresay the queen would have something to say about that,” he said. “It is bad enough that I bring a six year-old bastard son to court for a time. She would never tolerate the mother too.”
“Queen Katherine is a fair queen,” his mother said staring at the King then looking back at her son. “She was kind to me when I was her Lady-in-Waiting. She has not opposed your father bringing you to court. You will go.” Once his mother had made her mind up, she would not be swayed. Her chin had a stubborn air about it that he knew well.
“Very well,” he said. He wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve. “I will go to court with the king.” He did not want to leave his mother but he did long for adventure. And this sounded like an adventure. He wanted to learn. He ached to learn. He overheard a nobleman discussing the stars in the heavens above. He heard the names and thrilled at each one. Cassiopeia, the queen of the heavens. Poseidon, the angry sea God. Hercules, the brave warrior. Pegasus, the magnificent horse with wings. Pleiades, the seven sisters forever doomed to look down from above. He longed to learn their stories. And more! Part of him wished to be a small boy comforted by his mother but a part of him did not. Squaring his shoulders and drawing up to his fullest height, his chest tight with unshed tears. He turned to his father, the king. “I am ready to go.”
***
Chapter 2
7 June 1525 in the Year of Our Lord
A Boy Becomes a Duke
London was a blur of colours and sights. He gazed out the window of the carriage as he tried to see it all. He was whisked into the palace and since it was night all he saw was the dim lit hallway as the servant carried a candle in front of them. The servant brought him to a room and bade him enter. He went in as the servant lit a fire and several candles. The room was large; the bed was bigger than his old room with his mother! Suddenly he missed her. He wanted her here, too. He did not understand why she could not be here with him. The servant left after unpacking his clothes. He bowed to him and called him, “Sir.” Fitzroy pulled off his dusty clothes leaving them in a heap on the floor, he rummaged through the pile of folded clothes undoing the folding the servant had done and pulled out his night shirt. He used the chamber pot that was under the bench. He climbed into the soft bed and buried his head in the pillow crying for his mother.
***
The court was all abuzz about Henry’s son. Fitzroy heard the servants talking about him as if he were no longer in the room when they came in to tidy it or bring him trays of food. He left most of it untouched. He tried to eat but his stomach rebelled. He wondered when he would see his father again.
It was hot that summer. So hot. Fitzroy felt it difficult to breathe without the windows thrown open. And even then there was no breeze only more humid air. A servant came to get him for the ceremony. He had no idea what would happen at the ceremony but he went because he was curious to see the palace.
Hands placed a robe around his shoulders. “I am Cardinal Wolsey, advisor to your father. Hold still while I pin this on you.” Fitzroy watched the face of the man dressed all in red as he bent down to fasten the robe. “I am your Godfather, too.”
The scarlet and gold fur-lined robe was heavy on his shoulders. Cardinal Wolsey fastened it around his neck with a brooch in the shape of a horse that was made of gold. Once the robe was around his shoulders, Cardinal Wolsey left him alone in the alcove. The robe weighed him down and threatened to slip off even with the brooch holding it together. Fitzroy held his breath, if he didn’t move, it might stay in place. He held still wishing he could sit down. His head felt as if it were full of sheep’s wool. Two older boys dressed in long white and red robes trimmed with a gold design came into the alcove.
“Stand here,” the taller boy commanded. Fitzroy attempted to walk but tripped on the robe.
“Hold it up you fool, you want him to trip in front of the king?” A third boy came in. He rushed over to lift the tail of the robe up so Fitzroy could walk without tripping.
“Thank you,” Fitzroy said.
He heard music playing. Why did it have to be so hot? He felt sweat begin to drip down the middle of his back. It itched. He tried to scratch it but the robe threatened to fall off his shoulders so he tried to ignore it.
“Time to go,” the tall boy said as he peeked out of the alcove. Fitzroy wondered what he saw.
Hands pushed him toward his father who stood at the front of the chapel. He walked forward keeping his eyes on the ground so he would not trip on the robe. The court at St. George’s Chapel was packed with people which made it even hotter. Some of the women had fans and were fanning themselves with them. Fitzroy longed to feel a cool breeze, too. He walked behind the altar boys who carried golden bowls hung on chains from long poles. The bowls of smoke emanated a smell that made Fitzroy’s nose tickle and his chest feel tight. He almost tripped on the robe, it was so long but two other altar boys rushed to hold it up higher behind him. Fitzroy glanced up and saw stained glass windows that depicted the death of Jesus. He shuddered. As he got closer to the front he noticed Cardinal Wolsey, his father’s priest and Fitzroy’s Godfather standing in his red robes with a stern look on his face. He did not look pleased at the way Fitzroy was walking. The king stood next to him beaming. As soon as Fitzroy was in front of them, hands pushed him down on his knees. He bowed his head as if he were praying. Out of the corner of his eyes he watched the boys who were on either side of him. Their faces were still. Their eyes faced forward watching the king. Fitzroy shut his eyes for a moment. He longed to be back with his mother. He did not like all these people staring at him. He wished he could lie down; his head swam from the smell of the smoke.
The king cleared his throat then began to read from a scroll, occasionally glancing up at Fitzroy.
“On this day, the seventh of June, in the year of Our Lord, 1525, I, as King Henry the Eighth, King of England, do hereby declare that Henry Fitzroy will be now be known as Duke of Richmond, Somerset and Earl of Nottingham.”
***
Fitzroy was still kneeling before the king. He felt dizzy. His head full of the sounds that surrounded him. The air seemed to be stifling. He did not like the smell of those smoking bowls. He could not take a deep breath. He felt the robe begin to slip just as his father bid him stand. “Stand Duke of Richmond, Somerset and Earl of Nottingham so that the court may recognize you. From this moment forward you shall be known as the Duke of Richmond and be called Henry Fitzroy, Duke of Richmond, Somerset and Nottingham.” Fitzroy started to stand but the robe began to slip off his shoulders. The room was too hot. He saw the King’s face for a moment then, nothing. As he slumped forward he heard Cardinal Wolsey yell, “He’s fainted, bring some wine! Make haste!”
***
He woke up in a bed. A big four poster bed covered with gold and purple bed curtains. A window lay open. A breeze was blowing the curtains. It seemed as if the humid air had given way to a refreshing rain and left a cooler breeze in its place. The robe was gone and he was in a nightdress. His head felt cooler but his chest was tight as if the brooch still rested there. He glanced down but there was no brooch.
“You awake, Richmond?” The King asked as he stepped into Fitzroy’s line of sight. His face full of worry.
“I am. What happened? Am I a duke now?” He struggled to sit up. There were many pillows behind him. He propped himself up on them. He had never seen a bed this big before. It was big enough for him, his mother and the king and there would still be room left over. He smoothed his hand over the gold Damask cloth on the bed; it felt cool beneath his fingers.
“You fainted from the excitement or the heat. But you have been installed as the Duke of Richmond, Somerset and Nottingham.” He paused. “In a few days I will grant more titles to you.” He stroked the beard on his chin. “You are my only son, Richmond. I will treat as such but you must never betray me.” His eyes were fixed on a far away point above Fitzroy’s head. “And if I do have a son by my queen then you shall help him to be the best king in the land!”
“I am cold,” he said with a shiver. His nightdress was damp and he was chilled. He wanted to curl up under the covers and sleep. He wanted his mother. He attempted to pull a coverlet up over him but the king stopped him with a look.
Henry looked down at him. “There is sweating sickness here. You shall be moved to a castle in Yorkshire as soon as you can travel. I am traveling with the court to my summer palace for a time.” He placed a hand on the boy’s head. “We will see each other soon, I think.”
“Where is Yorkshire?” Fitzroy asked sitting up straighter. Perhaps it was near Mother. He hoped it was.
“North boy, almost to Scotland. More than two days journey from here. Many days of travel will be ahead of you. There is a castle there where you will live. I am sending a tutor to teach you. In a few years you will return to court.” Fitzroy felt his hopes dashed. He laid his head against the bed pillows weary from the ceremony. He did not want to leave court so soon. A timid knock made both of them look toward the doorway.
“Does the boy wish some broth?” A pretty girl not much older than Fitzroy in a simple dress came into the room holding a bowl of something that smelled delicious. Her feet were bare and her golden hair lay in two plaits on either side of her face. Her eyes were round with awe at seeing the king. The girl curtseyed to his father before advancing. She held the bowl in both hands so as not to spill it. She bowed low over the bowl seeming to cast her eyes downward. She looked up at Fitzroy and grinned. The king, staring at Fitzroy, gestured for her to come forward. She held the bowl up to his lips and tipped it spilling a little on him. Fitzroy sipped the broth and felt the warmth of the broth travel through his body. He felt stronger as he sipped the broth. He wished there was bread, too. He looked around but did not see any. He took the bowl from the girl. She bowed again and sprinted out of the room. He finished the broth wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. The king stood watching him. He nodded once. He turned and strode out of the room waving his arms at the guards who were just outside the door to accompany him.