Scarlett's Secret

9.1 Love Turned Cold

June 15, 1525. That was the night I lost all love for the King of England. When his hand breached my salt-stained cheek, that is when I saw the King in his true form. A man who lays hand violently against a woman is no man at all, yet an animal with a dangerous temper.

How could he expect our love to come back from this? He was a jealous man, pressured by his peers in a climate of patriarchy. And I, just a vessel to the heir to the throne. We all know I was not the first woman to carry the child of the King. In fact, the following day, June 16, Henry appointed his six-year-old illegitimate son Henry FitzRoy, Duke of Richmond and Somerset. He was the bastard son of his mistress Elizabeth Blount, and the only illegitimate offspring the King has ever acknowledged. And when our son is born, he too will be acknowledged and accepted as a Duke, although the King promises he will be the future King.

What a tale. How easy it is for the King to set his thoughts in action. This feared me greatly, and until recently, I was always cautious of the King's temper, but now I bare his strength across my cheek. When a man hits me, he doesn't soon do it again. But there is no escaping him, for I am a white dove confined to this cage. This castle.

I told Maria that I did not want any visitors for the next week. Hopefully, my purple flesh will dim by then... I don't want Tyson to see me in such a way. I fear his love for me often clouds his best judgement. He may actually pierce the belly of the King.

Twelve days past and I remained internment to my room. The burning heat had left my cheek, but the colour remained dark. I tried to distract myself with needlework whilst I hid in my room. Suddenly a thunderous commotion began outside my bedroom door.

"You're going to have to let me in at some point! Why is she not allowed to leave?" Tyson shouted. "Is she even still here or has He sent her away?" Their discussion was soon drowned out by an even louder sound, a sound I could only describe as twenty kitchen pans falling to the ground.

I grabbed my red velvet shall and headed towards the door before Tyson put himself in chains, only for this tall, shaggy-haired stallion to stumble into my quarters. "Tyson, you shouldn't have come here."

"Scar," he breathed, falling to his knees, "you're still here." He placed my cold hands in his and kissed them longingly.

I grabbed him and brought him to his knees, just as my guards stormed inside my room and took hold of Tyson. "Thank you, gentlemen, but there is no need for this. Thank you for obeying my orders, but it is time I allow the outside world in."

"Are you sure Lady Scarlett?" The hefty fair-haired one spoke, gripping tighter on Tyson's arm with one hand, and rubbing his sore cheekbone with the other.

"Yes I'm sure, thank you, Simon."

They nodded and stumbled back out of my dim-lit bedchamber.

I look over towards Tyson, whose brood eyes travelled every inch of me. I placed my hand over my cheek and hid beneath my long russet hair.

Tyson's jaw clenched, as he stormed over to my bedroom window, and thrust the curtains aside to let the natural white light reveal my purple shadowed cheek.

"The King?" He probed, his eyes focused and stern.

I nodded in response, "It was my doing, I questioned him and our babe inside me."