The Boleyn Prince

April 1537

Westminster

The council chamber at the Palace of Westminster was buzzing from a hive of speculation and intrigue.
The privy council were at a loss to understand why they had been recalled to the decaying palace for the second time that day and speculation was rife.

"I do hope this twice daily journey is not going to become a regular occurrence," grumbled Sir John Russel as he took his seat in the council chamber.

"I was to meet with Sir Robert Galvin this afternoon," Lord Sandys said. "He has a fine mare he is looking to sell."

"A fine way to talk of his daughter," Sir Richard Rich jested with a wink to his fellow councillors, which prompted the party to dissolve into laughter.

Thomas Howard, The Duke of Norfolk remained impassive, remaining at the back of the council chamber alongside the Duke of Suffolk. His disdain for the common born Rich barely concealed under his furrowed brow.
"Is this what the kings reign had come to," Norfolk thought scathingly. That common born men such as Rich and Cromwell now walked the hallowed halls of Westminster. The palace that had once been the principal home of the Kings of England, now endured Rich, a crude upstart born into an obscure family but now boasted prestigious posts of Solicitor General and Lord Chancellor, having aligned himself with the voracious Thomas Cromwell.
A man "not of any commendable fame," was how the late Sir Thomas More had described him at his trial. It was all the endorsement Norfolk needed to form an opinion. More was pious to the point of obsessive but his judgement on people had always been spot on.
If only More had learnt the art of politics he might still be alive, Norfolk mused. He had been the King's secretary in his youth, and it was well noted how well the King loved him.
With the influences of More & Queen Katherine, Henry had been an unrelenting champion of Catholicism. It was only by the machinations of Norfolk's niece, Anne Boleyn that the King has strayed from his path.
The privileges that More had enjoyed with the Kings vanished when he refused to acknowledge him as Supreme Head of the Church or sign the oath of Succession since he claimed it repudiated the papal authority. Since his refusal was tantamount to rejecting her position as Queen, Anne led the protestations that called for More to be tried for treason. Henry had duly agreed.
Norfolk had led the jurors that tried More, even offering him the Kings pardon if he would reform his obstinate opinion, yet More had still refused, claiming his refusal to speak out against proved his acceptance based on the long-standing legal principle of one who keeps silent seems to consent.
That might have been it and More acquitted, had it not been for Richard Rich, who testified that More had denied the Kings supremacy to him. Norfolk had doubted the truth of his testimony, but the court was not looking for the truth. It was looking for evidence to pronounce him guilty.
That same half smile was on Richs face now as it was as the guilty verdict was delivered in the courtroom. The lewd laughter of his colleagues was soon silenced by the opening of the chamber door to admit the ever-increasingly portly Lord Privy Seal.

Cromwell called the meeting took his place at the head of the table. "My lords, I thank you for taking the journey downriver again, and call this council meeting to order. Following a lengthy investigation by His Majesty's Privy Council into the conduct of the Lady Mary, it has been concluded that there is insufficient evidence to proceed with any charges against her." 

A collective rumble of agreement echoed around the council chamber. It seemed that even the Boleyn's' staunchest supporters could not accept the God-fearing Lady Mary would have been party to treason against her own father.
She was as famous for her piety as her late mother had been.

"The King is however mindful of her situation and has concluded that the safest course of action is to secure an alliance through marriage."

Sir John Russel, a man known to have the antipathy of the Queen stood first. "My Lord Cromwell, forgive me, but the Lady Mary, whilst named in law as baseborn would still be considered a great prize to either the King of France or the Emperor."

His statement that was widely supported by the reformist supporters on the council, whose head turned to toward each other to mull over the merits of the argument.

"Indeed, Sir John, you speak true. That is why His Majesty favours a domestic union."

"Well then, if it is to be a domestic union then the most outstanding candidate would be the Marquess of Exeter's son, surely?" The Bishop of Durham suggested. "The boy is already an Earl, and whilst he may be young, has sufficient pedigree to allay any objections the Emperor might raise.

"Out of the question. His mother, the Marchioness is a known sympathizer of the late Princess Dowager." Sir Richard Rich pointed out.

"A husband has already been selected," Cromwell revealed. "His Majesty has named George Boleyn, Viscount Rochford as his preferred choice. His Lordship has been consulted and is willing to accept the match.

The Duke of Suffolk, who had remained impervious to the discussion thus far, could not hide his revulsion at the horrific prospect of seeing another Boleyn raised so far above their rightful station. He rose to his feet slowly.
"My lords," he said, choosing his words with care. "Lord Rochford is merely a Viscount, hardly worthy of a daughter of a King, even one ruled naturally born,"

"It is in the King's gift to raise a man to any rank he so wishes, as Your Grace knows to your own benefit," Cromwell said smoothly.

A disloyal chuckle came from several of the newer members of the house at Cromwell's' chastisement. Those who had been young enough, and envious enough to witness Charles Brandon's rise from the younger son of Henry VIIs standard bearer to one of the most important peers in the realm and the brother-in-law of the King simply by virtue of the Kings affection for him.

"Upon his marriage," Cromwell continued. "The King, in his great generosity has decreed that Lord Rochford will be given the Dukedom of Gloucester along with a number of estates, in lieu of burdening the realm with a costly dowery."

He did not fail to note the rumble of discontent rippling through the council chamber. He needed to quash it before it became more vocalised and serious protestation was given voice.

"My Lord Norfolk,"

The tall imposing figure of the ruthless Duke rose to his feet at the call.

"It is the King's wish that Your Grace should ride to Hatfield and inform the Lady Mary of His Majesty's decision," Cromwell said smoothly.

It took every ounce of self-control for Norfolk to suppress his irritation at the onerous duty he had been given. Once again, it was he who had to play messenger to the Kings eldest daughter.
The Lady Mary was excessively stubborn as he knew from his own dealings with her. It had been he who had been sent to escort her from Richmond to Hatfield three years ago. He could recall clearly her stubborn refusals to submit to her father, constantly insisting on referring to herself as the King's only legitimate child.
For the last four years, she had been sequestered away in Princess Elizabeths' service, exiled from her supporters on Annes insistence to humble her into submission. Yet she had steadfastly refused to acknowledge her father's new marriage or the Act of Succession that displaced her as heiress to the throne.

"I am His Majesty's servant," his gravelly voice declared. As though he were honoured rather than irritated by the task assigned to him.

He decided to put off his visit to the Lady Mary until the morning. He could accomplish the ride within a day if he set off early enough and he did not want to spend a night on the road to Hatfield.
He dined alone in his private apartments, helping himself to several goblets of the finest wines at his disposal to prepare him for the odious task that lay ahead.
Not even his mistress could rouse him from his sullen mood.
He took her rougher than he had before, oblivious to her discomfort as he held her slim arms down against the bedsheets as he thrust into her again and again until he was spent.

He was still agitated as he mounted his horse the next morning. The unseasonably chilled spring morning, only further added to his irritation. He pushed his mount as hard he could to reach Hatfield before midday. He was determined to be back at court by the evening. He did not relish the prospect of a night at a country inn.

The rustic charm of the red brick nursery palace was entirely lost on the Duke as he rode into the courtyard. He cared little for attractive homes. He could not see the point. As long as they were well fortified and conveyed a declaration of wealth and power, they served their purpose.

"Good day, Your Grace," the slender figure of his kinswoman Anne Shelton emerged from the shadowy confines of the house. "We were not advised to expect you."

"I have come upon the King's orders, madam." He explained, removing his soft leather riding gloves and handing them to his groom. "Princess Elizabeth is well I trust?"

"She is in the most excellent health, Your Grace. A credit to the family Howard. As I expect Prince Henry to be. If I am to have the honour of having charge of his care, of course," She hinted as she led him into the palace, desperately looking for confirmation in his face that the future King of England would also be in her charge.

"The Queens Grace will advise you when she has settled matters relating to the prince's household," he replied evasively. He was too proud to say that he had no idea about the domestic arrangements Queen Anne was considering for the prince. He was not in her confidence like her brother George. She did not trust him, and he did not like her. He was convinced that left to her own devices, she would ruin herself. Her greatest boon had been the birth of Prince Henry. Only he guaranteed her protection against the king's waning affections.

"May I ask what brings Your Grace so far from court?" Lady Shelton asked, offering him a mug of ale.

He drank it gratefully. He had not realised how dry his throat had become in the chilly air. "I have news for the Lady Mary." He chose his words carefully.

"If she is not walking in the gardens then she will be in the chapel," volunteered Lady Shelton's sister, Alice Clere, who had joined in their conversation.

"Have her brought to me," he commanded her.

He was shocked at the appearance of the King's eldest daughter when she was finally located and shown into the gallery. She was thinner than he had ever seen her. Her clothes hung loosely about her petite frame. Her alabaster skin that had once shone with good health now looked dull and listless against the severe black of her mourning clothes she still wore for her mother. Her eyes were ringed red from weeping. she had wept away the beauty she had been blessed with.
George would need a good deal of encouragement to get it up for this childlike woman who stood before him he thought crassly. Jane Parker had been an odd fish, but her sideways looks and flirtatious had hinted at a bodacious sexual willingness that men enjoyed.

" Lady Mary, I bid you good day. The Kings Majesty has sent me to inform you of some decisions he had made. Decisions which concern you and your future."

"Has he written to me?" Her grey eyes were hopeful. She had received no kind word or letter from her father in over four years. She longed for word from him.

"No," he answered bluntly. "And I think you know he would not trouble himself to do so when you have so grievously offended him."

She was not abashed by this rebuke from a man she had known all her life. The girls' spirit seemed well and truly extinguished.

"I never wished to displease His Majesty" she insisted. "But my conscience could not permit me to acknowledge something my heart and my conscience both knew to be false.

"And your conscience outranks the will of the King?" he challenged her. "Whom by Gods and man's law you are to obey."

"That I have gone against the will of God has caused me more sorrow than Your Grace will ever know. I pray every night that He will forgive me and inspire my father to do the same."

"Gods will be done," He said dismissively. Indicating that he did not think her prayers would yield what she wanted. He did not want to lose himself a tangent, and so went straight to the matter at hand. "His Majesty has sent me to inform you, that after a thorough investigation, the Privy Council found no evidence of your complicity in the late rebellion in the North."

He could see the relief and surprise rushing over the King's teenage daughter.
No doubt she had feared the enquiry would produce false evidence against her that would have justified the King sending her to a grizzly death on Tower Hill, just as he had Thomas More and every other soul that had fallen foul of Anne Boleyn's ambition.

A spark of spirit returned to the waif like creature before him. "My honour and innocence were never afraid of examination, Your Grace.

Norfolk's eyes narrowed. "Your house arrest is to be relaxed and you are to prepare to travel to Whitehall next month to be married."

At the mention of the wedding, Lady Mary's grey eyes grew wide with surprise. "Married, Your Grace?"

A slight smile played upon the Duke's thin lips. "Yes. The King has decided that you shall be married next month to the Queen's brother, Lord Rochford."

"I must speak with the King," she stammered. "I cannot believe he would dishonour me so..."

"The King has made his decision and you will not dissuade him from it, even if he would receive you," the Duke interrupted, advancing towards her. "Had you been a dutiful daughter and obeyed him then perhaps your situation may have been different. You may have been an honourable spinster or even ennobled in your own right, like the late Duke of Richmond, God rest him. But you have proved to be so undeserving of the Kings good nature that you have made yourself his enemy. Be thankful that His Majesty is still respectful of the kinship of your blood to him, that he has chosen to ennoble your husband with the Dukedom of Gloucester. You are to be a Duchess, Lady Mary. No other traitor to His Majesty has ever been so fortunate."

She began to sob uncontrollably. "I am no traitor. I love my father as I love God. I would sooner take the veil," she wept through the flow of tears. "I would sooner sign away my inheritance."

"You have no inheritance to sign away," Norfolk argued unmoved by her distress. "You are a bastard, in name and in law. You will inherit nothing. This marriage is better than you deserve for had you been my daughter, I would have bashed your senseless head against the wall until it was as soft as a boiled apple."

His threats only succeeded in scaring her more, prompting a further flurry of tears. The girl was irritating him now. He had never had the patience to deal with weeping girls. That was women's work. His job was done. The message was delivered.  He walked away, leaving her clutching onto the side of the table for support, her body shaking with hysterical sobs.

"Your Grace, is something wrong?" Lady Clere hurried into the room to Lady Marys side.

"The Lady Mary has discovered that actions have consequences, madam," he growled coldly, before leaving the girl to her hysterics.