Violent Ends (Violent Delights Book 19)

Chapter 2: the Death according to Henry, King of England

And then there's Margret. My wife. I must pray for her. But first. A few more prayers for the dead.
My uncles. My uncle Humphrey who cared for me when I was a boy. He ran England while I was still growing up, and I'm incredibly grateful. He was not a good Christian and there were rumors of witchcraft, so I pray for his soul very passionately for he was a good man.
Then there's my uncle Beaufort. He was my father's uncle, and quite fond of me. He was a Cardinal, so naturally I looked to him deeply on matters of the spirit. He was always about when I needed him, and he was one of the first people to encourage me to build my colleges.
"You should do it. Sounds interesting. Makes you happy? Do it," he said, leaning back in a chair, drinking wine.
"Of course, the word of god and educating my people would of course make me happy! It is my duty."
"Right right make sure the ceilings are high."
"Oh I shall! If it's a beautiful testimony to god's love then parliament will fund it," I said, happily.
As it happened Parliament balked greatly. But I got it done. It was enjoyable to me. I was sure god had put it in my heart to educate and care for my people. That is why I am king after all, to make sure everyone in England and France have a better, holier life. As god teaches us.
My uncle Beaufort often sat up with me in the evenings to help go over paperwork or the like. One night I'll always remember. I had set up my abbacus and had just finished my evening prayers
"Uncle, I hope you don't mind if we work on the taxes tomorrow night. Only, I found a half a dozen of my father's old account books so I thought I would go over them for educational reasons, I'll take this one about the Lancaster tariffs in my room for a bit of light reading later, however for now I wanted to go through all of his shipping data there's a roll here and a couple of books, oh and Oxford's Chancellorship papers from 1410-1413 he had those as well in his personal effects which was unusual so anyway I thought that might be fun as I have the six hours free—uncle?" I looked up to realize he was looking at me with tears in his eyes.
"Your father would have loved you," he said, quietly.
"I am sorry I've been going on about accounts when you were feeling pensive—would you prefer to spend the evening alone?" I asked, nervously, crawling into my chair and pulling my knees up to my chest.
"No. No, not at all. This does look entertaining, I'd love to help you look it over," he said.
But his words would stay with me. So suddenly saying that my father would have loved me. Reassurance I didn't want to need. I had my Heavenly Father to serve, my earthly father I should not concern myself with as much as I do. But I do hope he'd be proud of me. But my uncle was so sure of it that night.
My uncle did trouble me at times. I was not yet sixteen. Marriage had been spoken of but God had not yet called me to marry so I was tentative. And my uncles, and a few other people I think, were very sinful.
They hired dancers who were women who had no clothes on. Well, no clothes upon their chests. I left the room sobbing of course, chastising them all for the sinful nature of it. They never did it again but they were not very contrite. I paid all the women and entreated them never to remove their clothes again, of course I had my eyes closed for this. I later asked my uncle how he could think such a thing was all right.
"We all have our sins, Rex. Incidentally we're going to Bath this weekend. They've a nice church you'll like the ceiling."
"Oh yes I'd love to go," I said, happily.
"You are not," my Harry breathed.
"Oh, we are," my uncle Beaufort said, rather tired.
"We absolutely are," my uncle Humphrey said, nearly cheerful.
"Don't you want to go, Harry?" I asked.
"Sure. We'll go," he had his hands over his face.
The church was simply beautiful. I did love the ceiling it was marvelous. But then my uncles tried to entreat me to go to the public baths. My uncles did not usually do things together so I was quite surprised, and wanted to encourage them if they were getting on as they often did not. However, unfortunately when got to the baths men were bathing naked. I sobbed and covered my eyes of course, crying for shame as it was sinful to be so unclothed.
"Oh, well, that was inconclusive," my uncle Beaufort sighed.
"It was sinful!" I sobbed.
"That's Hal's boy," my uncle Humphrey said, tugging on my cloak in comfort, "Uncle do you not owe me a grout?"
"This is no time to talk of money! They should not be bathing like that it's a sin," I sobbed, as Harry held a cloak in front of me and glared at them.
"It is a sin and we'll never make you sad again," Harry nearly snarled.
"It is and I'll go tell them that. You just go rest," my uncle Beaufort said, nicely.
He often took care of me like that. I was exceedingly grateful he never shamed me even though I soon learned I wasn't the man anyone expected. I am not my father. But my uncle did seem to love me for myself.
So. That's my uncle's prayed for. Now, about Margret my dear wife.
God gave to Margret a dangerous courage. She doesn't come to my shoulder and even in my infirmity I can lift her off her feet yet she has the spirit of a lion. Once, and she swears I was unwell and experiencing visions, once I am sure I saw her in full armor, with, other men's blood fresh upon it, striding towards me on the battlefield.
And she swears it was merely a vision and not at all true for she's as opposed to violence as I am but I do think it may have been her. I know she is strong and I love her strength but she worries me from time to time, I know I should trust her but I pray for god to protect her in this cruel world.
I was nervous about taking a wife. She was Jasper's age just, and decently younger than I. I did pray for guidance to be a good husband. But I also relied on more mortal support.
"As you know I'll be married soon. And I suppose talking to a woman may be different than a man," I said, "I only know my governesses Lady Alice who is a good woman. But not a young woman. And young women like young men probably have certain preferred topics."
"Yeah, it'll be interesting for you to discover. Feel free to share what you learn," Jasper said.
"Well—have you no friends among I don't know—the staff?" I asked, "You're meant to help me!"
"My dear brother and king—have we met?" He asked, using his Harry mostly as a cushion as we sat in my chamber.
"Ooof," his Harry mumbled.
"Shh, you're calm, calm—sorry he had a bad day," Jasper said, petting Harry's face to calm him. It did work.
"Well she's your age! Do you not—look I'll take advice for charming conversation with women, Jas, no judgement for any desires of the flesh," I said, my face growing red.
"Once again. My dear brother. I have no secrets to my routine. What you have witnessed—is what happens. I get up. I do lessons. I go riding sometimes with Harry. Sometimes I go swimming with Harry. Sometimes we go up on the roof and talk to the stars. Then I pass out in my room. That is it, that is my routine I'm attached to it," Jasper said.
"Well you're no help— I apologize that was uncharitable," I sighed.
"No, I strive to be little help with women that is not a Jasper accomplishment, shhh-you're okay, calm," he lay more on top of his Harry.
"My Harry said to be myself."
"Oh loads of help he is what kind of advice is that?"
"I know! I talk of church, and ceilings, and my colleges," I sighed.
"Look, if she doesn't like you, she's mad," Jasper said.
"Jas," I laughed.
"Well she is. You're good. Everyone has a light in them to be found, with you, you don't even have to be looking for it you just shine," he said, lying completely back on his friend, "You are a good king, because you want to be good at it. Being good is hard work. And you try every day. I know you'll be a good husband as well."
"Thank you, Jasper," I said, smiling, "Do I tell you often enough I'm glad you're here?"
"Just about," he said, reclining across his Harry, smiling that smile of endless charm, dark bangs brushing his soft face. Still just fourteen but getting tall and broad as ever, able to crush his much leaner friend beneath him.
"That actually looks comfortable," I said.
"It is," Harry mumbled, Jasper's elbow in his mouth, "Better now."
"Good, shhh, sorry as I said he's had a bad day," Jasper said.
"What happened?" I asked.
"People were being miserable, some of the other boys, because he never stops talking they tease him," he said.
"Well I'll speak with them, that's cruel," I said.
"Oh they're having, a much worse day now," Jasper said.
"Why?"
"Oh some of them were injured not long after the incident in a following incident which they shall oft remember."
"Jasper Tudor!"
He winced, "Well, they were being mean to him."
"You must control your temper. We do not win by violence or cruelty, only love," I reminded him.
"I loved how my fists felt in their faces."
"Jasper!"
"I'm sorry, brother," he said.
"You must ask their forgiveness. And God's," I said, "No more fighting."
"I promise. No more fighting," he sighed.
I do think he meant it, but he is devoted to all of us as a collie dog. Loyal, true, and remarkably resilient. He'll show up anywhere, even when I think he's in Wales I'll wake and he's lifting me from my bed to carry me to the garden.
His Harry is as well, quite energetic with a fierce temper. He loves order and he has such a good heart, I made him constable of the Tower. He swore he'd show mercy to the prisoners there and he's terribly honest. I do try to keep this Tower as empty as possible but for everyone's protection some arrests must occur. I say a prayer for him, he's with Margret she's very fond of him. We all are, but especially Jasper the two were always particular friends, like David and Johnathan.
Margret and I were married in Westminster. I couldn't look up at the ceiling at all. I wanted to be someone who wasn't disappointing.
I was struck by how small she was. And delicate, with soft gold hair. She is very beautiful, and her dress was neat and modest. The wedding was a rush, and so many people. It was so noisy I did like it at all I could barely enjoy Westminster and the ceilings what glimpses I got. Afterward Margret was going to live at Sheen manor, as I thought it was best she got settled in England first. My father rebuilt much of Sheen manor there was a fire once. So it felt nice, like somewhere he'd built for us. And that way Margret could get used to her duties and she and I could grow accustomed to one another.
The wedding night was the first chance we got to talk, and I was very glad of finally the quiet. She sat upon the bed, with her lovely hair down.
"Are you well?" She asked.
"It's been very loud," I said, hands over my ears, "Do you mind how people sit in chairs?"
"What?" She asked.
"Any preference?"
"No," she shook her head slowly.
I sat down in the chair by the fire, knees up to my chest, stretching my head back to fully relax.
"You're not ill?" She asked.
"No, I'm very tired as I'm sure you are," I said, looking over. She was pulling her own legs up on the bed and I nearly saw a glimpse of her knees. I looked away, quickly. "You should cover up you're likely cold."
"I'm well. Ah—your letter was kind," she said.
"Good. I mean I'm glad you liked it—I mean I want you to be happy here in England," I said, "You met my mother's second husband, Owen, I sent him to you he's very reliable. And my half brothers, they were about I will have them attend to you at Sheen should you need anything."
"All right," she nodded.
"Did you get to see Westminster? I suppose not it was too busy. It's very beautiful," I said, hopefully.
"It was yes—ah—are you staying over there?"
"At the moment. I like sitting in chairs like this. I suppose I shouldn't sleep here though my neck will hurt," I said, hanging my head over the back of the chair to address her.
"I—I'm sorry," she sighed, "Are we not going to consummate the marriage?"
"It is. We were wed," I said, confused, "Of course I spend the night here, but afterward you'll live at Sheen as I explained, you should have your own household and get used to england."
"Yes, yes I got the letter and the lion—,"
"Did you like him?"
"After a moment—,"
"He likes Jasper and Harry that's about it. I think they were feeding him though, that's Jasper's Harry, there are several Harries so I don't recommend calling me Harry. Everyone calls me Rex, I'm sorry I should have said that earlier, I feel like I'm not doing this well at all and we've hardly had time to speak," I sighed, sitting up and crawling to the floor to be more comfortable.
"No, you're doing well—are you not going to lie with me?" She asked, heat rising to her fair cheeks.
"It would be sinful," I said, frowning, my own face going red, "God has not called us to have a child yet, I'd know certainly. And it is a sin to —have any—relations—if we did not wish a child."
"I see," she said, frowning, "You don't—wish a child?"
"Well when God calls us to be ready. My own father was thirty four when I was born there's plenty of time," I said, "And besides it would be a sin to lie with you during your time—and I don't know when that is—or on a Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, or Sunday, or a fast day or feast day, or during Advent or Whitsun, or Easter or of course Christmas—so all those days aside and then you'd know if it was your time or not. Then if none of those things were true and God was calling you to have a child. I suppose." I could feel my face burning in shame, "But it doesn't really matter. As I said my own father was over twice your age when I was born. I don't need a child."
"All right," she said, nodding a little, staring at me.
"Well it would be a sin," I said, my stomach still sick. In retrospect I should have spoken to someone about this talk. But it felts sinful. Disgusting.
"Yes, yes," she said, "Do—lie on the bed though. For the night. I hate you down there on the floor."
"I'm well unless it bothers you. It sometimes bothers people that I sit in chairs how I do," I said.
"No, it's fine just, lie in a knot around the chair legs if you're comfortable—-actually no it feels awful come on up," she patted the bed.
I didn't want to disobey so I crawled up onto the bed. She crawled back and slid under the covers.
"Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?" I asked, curling up with my knees pulled up to my chest, "I think—I know I'm different than other men. I used to think it was because I'm king. Now I think it's because of me."
"No. No, I'm glad to get to talk to you," she said, quietly.
We passed the night that way, me curled up with my back to her, her quietly taking up a small corner of the great bed.
I scheduled to dine with her often. And soon I was as comfortable around her as I was the rest of my family. I loved making her laugh, and as it happened she enjoyed my descriptions of churches. She was genuinely interested in my plans for the colleges, and eagerly helped with much of her own office. I was pleased she got on so well, and I began to find myself looking forward to spending time with her.
She liked my brothers and Jasper's Harry quite a lot as well. My Harry died the year after my marriage, which devastated me of course. I knew God had a plan, which I did not understand. Margret comforted me in my grief. And lacking my old friend I began to rely on her more than ever. I had to move on, for my sweet Harry was in heaven now. He left a wife and little daughter we naturally saw were looked after.
And Margret, very quietly, grew close to me. She learned her role with grace, and she was unafraid to attend Parliament with me and speak up. I have a soft voice and manner she would even grow angry when my council did not listen. I appreciated her protectiveness and kindness. I knew by then that there were plenty of men far bolder than I who a woman like her would want. But she came back to me, time and again. She was happy to bicker with my brothers, and attend long dinners with me. Go riding and listen to my plans for colleges, or just lay beneath the trees in Windsor's ancient forest.
I ignored the topic of a child. I was sure god would put the idea in my heart when the time was right and I still blushed even to see her hair come down. Margret broached the idea a few times. Mentioning that perhaps we should think of an heir.
"God will tell us," I told her, and she'd leave it.
We'd been married five years when Margret finally came to me in earnest.
"I'm ready, I wish to be a mother," she said, taking the edge of my cloak as we stood in the library.
"You can touch me," I said, softly. Her touch was not painful like the others.
"Rex. It's time we had a child," she said.
"It's Wednesday."
"Yes, I know I'm giving you a day's notice I'll come to your room," she said.
"It's a feast week."
"No it's not I checked," she sighed.
"It's not time I'd know," I said.
"Just—come to me. All right?" She said, "You won't—if you truly feel unwell then nothing happens."
"I'll do as you ask," I was ill all day and night, and all the next. I'm sure I didn't concentrate at all on my work. I retired early nearly shaking. Jasper offered to send a doctor for me twice and I had to deny him a chess game I was so unsettled. I went to my room and changed quickly, then dismissed my staff. And finally I got up the nerve to go to her chambers.
She was waiting, hair down and lovely, in her pale white dress. Candles lit, but not too many.
I blushed I'm sure as I closed the door.
"Come here," she said, patting the bed, "Close your eyes."
"Why?"
"I'm taking this off," she said.
"That's sinful—,"
"So close your eyes," she said, nearly smiling.
I closed my eyes and lay back on the bed.
She gently tugged off her dress then slid under the covers.
"I love you," I said, softly. I felt ill.
"Get in, just lie here," she said, moving the blankets.
I crawled under as well, unlike our wedding night I faced her. I carefully tugged off my shirt, then pulled the covers over my naked chest, shivering.
"Let me touch your face," she said, reaching out a hand.
I obeyed, tipping my head towards her.
"I love you too," she said, "This is no sin. You are nothing like a sin, Henry."
I breathed, steadily, her skin glowed in the firelight. Of course I wanted to gaze on her. And the sickness in my stomach was turning to a fire in my chest.
"May I kiss you?" I asked.
"Yes," she said, softly.
I kissed her mouth, quickly. It was warm and soft, and I couldn't stand it. I moved to her smooth cheek, then neck. That was sweet, her skin tasted like sweet oils she'd rubbed into it. I kissed her shoulder then neck slowly. She lay back, sliding the blankets down to accommodate my touch. My hands firmly slid down her sides to her thin hips. My heart racing.
"Is this how it's supposed to feel?" I asked, my face in her chest. It felt too good to be right.
"It had better be," she said, grinning, then, a soft and tender smile I'd not seen on her, "I like you loving me."
"Good. I don't want to stop," I said, pressing my face firmly into her chest. Soft small breasts, I shouldn't look on her nakedness. Not even as my wife. Yet, I could not help it.
I kissed the hollow of her arms, gazing at her smooth and perfect in the firelight. Soft lines of hairs down her belly. A scar on her hip. Terribly forbidden knowledge yet I drank of it anyway. I wanted her and for one night I was ready to have her.
I didn't leave until the small hours of the morning, she told me I could go. She knew the shame I'd feel if I was woken by her servants. And I felt it anyway. Like I'd damaged her somehow, taken something I was not meant to have. Yet I also felt ridiculously unclean. I went to her almost immediately the next day, to affirm she was well.
"I'm fine, I love you," she said, gripping my arm firmly, "You are my husband."
I didn't grow bolder but I did grow less ashamed. Now and again I could kiss my wife if we both liked. Not her mouth that was still damp and simply awful, but her soft skin, yes, that I could touch and enjoy. I knew the scripture said I was not meant to enjoy it. But I decided a few pleasures were not a sin if all other commandments were followed.
So, older but no wiser, I slowly began to go to my wife's chambers, if of course it was not a holy day or anything of that kind. Perhaps every few months. Sometimes less often if we were both busy.
It was in the midst of Lent that she came to my chambers. I was shocked. She'd come to me before now and then, but she knew it was Lent.
"It's Lent you should not be here," I said, sitting up in bed and tugging up the blankets as she crawled in.
"Shh, God will forgive us I wanted to see you," she said, curling closer to me under the blankets, "Hold me."
"It is Lent we'll both pray at morning mass," I said, but I took her in my arms anyway.
She took my hand in her own small one, guiding it over her belly.
"What are you—," then of course I felt it. I knew her body as well as my own. And now just beneath the smooth skin of her belly, there was a firm, sold mass.
"You're with child," I breathed, heat rising to my face.
"I think so, I'm —it's been so long," she said, quietly, "I haven't bled since we lay together at Eltham, that night of the snowstorm. By the fire, you held me. I've had no blood since, now this. But it's been so long that I was afraid."
"Shh, God gave us this child at the proper time that is all," I kissed her forehead, taking her fully in my arms now. That empty, sick feeling in my stomach being replaced by something else. A love for our unborn child growing in my heart.
"I'm perhaps three months gone," she said, softly, still holding my hand over her belly.
"Why didn't you tell me you thought there was a child?" I asked, softly.
"I wasn't sure," she said, softly, face in my chest, "I do love you."
"I love you," I said, sliding a hand down her back, enjoying the feeling of her in my arms.
All was not well. Margret was ill, and while she was with child she didn't show, not as much as she thought she should have. The lump her belly was indiscernible under dresses. She looked a bit thicker, but only a bit. When I held her in my arms of course I could feel the difference. And she would come to me at night, simply crawl into bed and lay my hand on her little belly. Only once did I feel the child move.
And then my own health failed. By the end of summer I was terribly weak. And Margret had to support me, an arm under mine. The child did not move, and despite being by our accounts past six months she barely looked pregnant. The doctors told us to expect it to be stillborn. I prayed of course for the child's health but at that point Margret and I both were growing increasingly concerned for my own. I collapsed twice. Pain filled me. I could not move or speak. The first time Owen carried me to my room from the garden.
The second time I did not recover.
When I woke from my coma Margret was well, and so was our child. Our beautiful son. Edward. My Eddie. A gentle, lovely boy with a good temper and strong sense of right and wrong. I adore him. He's as fierce as his mother.
Now he's seventeen. All those fears we had for the pregnancy were ill founded. He's a happy, healthy boy, tall as I am. And he's so clever. Now we're back in London I'll take him to Westminster and see his grandfather's tomb.
He'll be a good king someday, god willing. I've been so ill I do pray for forgiveness. I've not protected my boy or my wife as I should. Every decision seems wrong. But I've still got them. We are still a family. Or at least we should be. We are meant to be.
I want to go walk in Windsor and show Eddie the trees. The ones his mother and I used to ride beneath. It's time now he should learn to be king. He'll do so well. It's our days in the sun now surely. After all the trouble we've had and that my illness has caused. We deserve a little peace.