Perhaps. But at same time, Henry VII was never same again after her death. Of course, Arthur's death didn't help either, but still. Speaking of Arthur, there is record of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York actually comforting each other after learning of Arthur's death. So who know what kind of love they actually had.
Titulus Princeps: Bessie Blount Has A Girl
- Thread starter FalconHonour
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I think it was a slow building one over the years
Like Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully from ASOIAF.
Its not unusual for a married couple of 15-16 years to grow to love each other and as they were united in their goals for their children, no doubt they came to cherish each other. Elizabeth seemed to have been a gentle and comforting woman, something that certainly would win Henry over by time, that solitary oyster he was.
I do not think who Henry really needed to be reminded of that promise or had ever intention to marry anyone who was not Elizabeth but at the same time he needed to delay the wedding as he wanted first established himself as rightful ruler of England in his own rgift, without owing anything to Elizabeth or their wedding
That and he had to kick the law made Elizabeth of York and her siblings illegitimate off the book as well, if I am not mistaken.
True that. Claim the throne by right of conquest and then shore it up by wedding Elizabeth.
He had to deal with that little trouble as well.
XIV: June 1530
Durham House, June 1530
Harry heard Lord Suffolk long before the Duke actually entered the schoolroom.
At once, he knew something was up. The Duke could be boisterous, more like a playmate than an uncle, but he never forgot his manners. Harry had never heard him shout at a woman before… and yet His Grace was shouting at Lady Wyatt.
“I don’t care that His Grace is at his lessons! This is an emergency, woman! We need Lord Pembroke at Court. NOW!”
Before Harry could process those words, the door to the schoolroom flew open. Lord Suffolk stood in the doorway, grey and dusty with haste. There was a strange look lurking in the corners of his steely brown eyes.
Harry’s heart lurched. Was that fear he saw in his uncle’s eyes? He hoped not. He didn’t think Lord Suffolk was scared of anything at all.
He opened his mouth to speak, but the Duke didn’t give him a chance, only nodded to him, quickly and jerkily.
“Lord Pembroke. Have your cloak and boots fetched and order your pony to be saddled. Your presence is required at Court. At once.”
Lady Wyatt twittered, shocked at how abrupt the Duke was being, but Harry’s heart leapt. Court? Court, at last? He hadn’t been to Court since his birthday and that was ages ago. He could ride much better now. And speak some French. He’d been paying more attention in lessons now that he was a big brother as well as a big boy. After all, he’d have to be able to teach baby Elizabeth things when she got bigger. That’s what big brothers did, and it would make Father proud of him. Maybe he’d finally give Harry that Irish Wolfhound puppy he’d been begging for. After all, now that he was both nine and a big brother, he must be old enough to look after a puppy, surely?
All of this flashed through Harry’s head in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, and he leapt to his feet, sending his inkwell flying, so that its contents splattered his dove-grey tunic.
His tutor, Sir Henry Wyatt, tutted disapprovingly, but Harry didn’t give him a chance to start scolding.
“You heard Lord Suffolk, Sir Henry! We ride for Court at once!”
“Lord Pembroke! That is no way for a Duke -”
“My pony! Now!”
Harry knew that, were the matter not clearly so urgent, he’d be roundly punished for daring to speak to Sir Henry so, particularly in front of a visitor from Court, but even at just nine, he could tell that some of the usual rules could be flouted today. And he was right.
Though Sir Henry gaped at Harry’s boldness for a moment, something changed when he caught Lord Suffolk’s eye over Harry’s head. He shut his mouth, sighed bitterly and hurried from the room.
They were on the road within the half-hour.
Windsor, June 1530
Court was different. Harry could tell that as soon as they rode in. Whenever he’d been to Court before – Christmas, Michaelmas or his birthday – the palace had reminded him of the beehives Lady Wyatt tended in the gardens at Durham House – warm, busy and humming with happiness.
This time, however, Windsor Castle seemed more like a church; grey, quiet and sad.
Harry didn’t like it. It made him shiver.
He tugged at Lord Suffolk’s sleeve and the older man looked down at him.
“Uncle Charles? What’s wrong? Where are we going?”
Harry tried hard not to let his voice shake as he spoke. Dukes weren’t supposed to be scared little boys, after all.
He can’t have been very good at hiding his fear, though, because Lord Suffolk spoke very kindly and very gently when he answered, “We’re going to see your father, Lord Pembroke. He’s been jousting and he’s been very badly hurt. He’s also had some very bad news, so you’re going to need to be very gentle and very brave around him. Can you do that, do you think?”
Harry scoffed. He hated it when Lord Suffolk treated him like a baby. Of course he could be gentle and kind to Father if the latter was ill. He was a knight, after all. All knights were brave and gentle, it was in their very vows!
He didn’t say any of this, though, just nodded, and Lord Suffolk’s lips twitched into something that might passably be called a smile.
“Good,” he replied, before picking up his pace again, so that Harry had to trot to keep up.
Harry’s beloved godmother, Aunt Mary, met them at the door to his father’s rooms. Her eyes were red and swollen, as though she’d been crying for hours, and she sighed audibly at the sight of Harry.
“Oh, thank goodness. You’re here. Your father will be so pleased to see you.”
“He’s awake, then,” Lord Suffolk asked, and Aunt Mary nodded, “And in considerable pain. The poppy tears wore off a few hours ago and Butts doesn’t want to give him any more for a while, in case he becomes dependent on them.”
Harry listened eagerly, but that was the only thing Aunt Mary let slip. A moment later, she looked down at Harry and collected herself.
“Come on, Harry. Let’s go and see your father. Charles, make sure we’re left alone.”
Harry promised Lord Suffolk he’d be brave, but even so, the sickroom made his stomach turn,
It was dark, but not so dark that he couldn’t make out his father’s bulk, propped against a mountain of cushions. Father’s legs were stretched out on the bed in front of him, and his groin was unnaturally huge, swollen out of all proportion with what looked almost like a baby’s swaddle, except that it was seeping blood.
Tears came to Harry’s eyes, and only Aunt Mary’s grip on his shoulders, painfully tight, stopped him from bolting from the room as his father groaned like a dying bear.
“Henry. Henry. Open your eyes, brother. Harry’s here to see you. Charles went to Durham House to fetch him. Isn’t he the bravest, comeliest boy you’ve ever laid eyes on?”
Aunt Mary’s fingers dug into Harry’s shoulders. There was a note of desperation in her voice, but her words did the trick. Harry’s father’s eyes flickered open, gleaming sapphire in the gloom.
“Harry,” he croaked, voice much hoarser and gravellier than Harry remembered, “My boy. My precious boy.”
He gestured weakly with one arm, and Aunt Mary pushed Harry forward. Harry hardly had time to register what was going on before he was crushed against his father’s breastbone, the older man’s arm across his back so tightly that he was worried it might snap him in two.
Blood and unguents mingled cloyingly in Harry’s nose until he could hardly breathe, and his thick fair hair began to drip with his father’s tears.
Crying. His father was crying. Harry had never seen his father cry before.
He didn’t quite understand what had happened, nor what was really going on, but that didn’t matter. He knew enough to know it was important.
He knew enough to know it had changed everything. Forever.
Thank you! It's good to be back in the saddle, it has to be said!
Oh dear, I think Henry has just realized that he'll have no more children... I suppose there's not much chance that Queen Mary is pregnant, is there?
She's only just been churched with baby Elizabeth! Even if she was (which she isn't) they wouldn't know for at least another couple of months!
Bright side - it clearly won't be her fault she doesn't have a son, so what excuse will he use to divorce her?
Well, quite. And this is why I think she might be easier to deal with here than she was in Queen Twice Over, because she's more secure as Queen than she was before George's birth/ after his death.
This is a really interesting story. I have to admit though, reading about Henry VIII's castration is perhaps the most satisfying part of this story. God knows, Henry's loins stirred a lot of trouble in England. Looking forward to more.
Probably because it's true. In a way, it's his fault that Tudors were on the English throne for only three generations. Only if at least one of his brothers survived...
Poor Harry having to see his father in such a state!
Though the presence of the boy might help Henry with the strength he needs to recover…
Whoever plays Henry in the TV version of this moment, of (which there will be a few versions I’m sure), is right into Award territory if they get it just right…
Though the presence of the boy might help Henry with the strength he needs to recover…
Whoever plays Henry in the TV version of this moment, of (which there will be a few versions I’m sure), is right into Award territory if they get it just right…