England: 1525
"Another miscarriage," the red-headed man spat before taking a long gulp of wine.
The halls of Windsor Castle were dark in the pre-dawn light. Eerie shadows danced along marble floors and stone columns as servants scurried past, candles in hands. In a small side-chamber, a middle-aged man sat at a covered table with a wine goblet in hand. Several empty bottles lined the table, as did dark stains or spilled wine. He sat hunched with a look of borderline despair and anger. A second smaller and younger man stood before him, waiting patiently.
England stood before his King, wrapped in a green cloak to cover his plain woollen tunic and trousers. It was rare for England to be seen in such a way. Normally he would be dressed more appropriately in courtly fashion. However he had been awoken in the middle of the night by a nervous page and had very little time to spare. To be called at such short notice, England had expected important news. Perhaps even good news. He had made his way to the castle with high hopes.
But the mood was far from jovial.
"I can't take it anymore," the man continued, talking into his goblet. His rich, elaborately decorated clothes were creased and stained with wine. "All these years and what do I have to show for it? Mary. Just Mary. I can't leave the Kingdom to a girl. Do you remember what happened the last time the monarch was a girl? Of course you do, you were there."
England made no move. When the King was in his cups, it was best to let him rant than earn a cuff to the face. Instead, England glanced to the floor, staring at his reflection in the polished marble. He did remember what happened. Civil war and endless bloodshed, all for the coveted crown. Those had been dark days. England could see the flames of war as his memories floated back. Oh yes, he had been there...
"I will not have civil war!" the man snarled, hurling his goblet to the floor. The delicate cup bounced away with a loud clang and landed at a nearby servant's feet. "Mary would never be able to hold the throne. Who would be king then? Some jumped up noble with a feeble claim? Some Spaniard hoping to join England to the Holy Roman Empire? Or God help me, a Frenchman? I will not stand for it!"
"What happened to Matilda was years ago," England said quietly, trying to calm his king. "Times and ideas have changed; Mary's femininity may not-"
"The risk is too great!" the man roared, spittle flying and catching in his beard. "Civil war would break you, leaving you open to the French and the Scots! The War of the Roses is still fresh in many Englishman's mind, despite my father being long dead. I'll not return you to that state, never! I'll not let France and Scotland claim you!"
As his King continued to vent and slam his fist against the table, England averted his gaze. Outbursts such as these had become more frequent. It was not England's place to reprimand his king; he had tried on numerous occasions, only to be expelled from the court with various punishments.
Eventually his ruler grew silent, brooding over his interlocked fingers. England gathered his strength to force out the next words. He knew the answer, but he needed to hear it from his King.
"What would you have me do your Grace?"
King Henry VIII's face twisted into a sneer as he cracked his knuckles. He looked down at the table. As King, his words were final.
"Break with Rome."
0O0
Italy: 1534
The atmosphere inside the Vatican City was tense as England had made his way through the many corridors and hallways until he found the correct audience chamber. The servant that should have been at his side trailed behind him, gasping and spluttering between pleading words. England ignored the old man and threw the doors open. If he was nervous and finally being granted an audience with the Pope, he did not show it. He wore his best doublet and hose, dark green with intricate gold filigree and a black riding cloak that hung from his shoulders. He smirked as he strode into the chamber, finally achieving what he and Henry could not do for many years...
His heart sank as he found himself standing before a semi-circle of cardinals, their red vestments straining against the bulks of their bodies. They were all smirking as they sat patiently. England found himself snarling. He had ridden across Europe to personally speak to His Holiness the Pope, but yet again found himself facing a gaggle of arrogant cardinals. It seemed he Holy Roman Empire still kept a tight hold on Clement VII.
England took a calming breath before he began, dispensing with pleasantries. "I have come a long way. I wish to see his Holiness-"
"That is impossible England," the lead cardinal said coolly. He began blithely inspecting his nails for dirt. England gritted his teeth at the insult. "His Holiness has many appointments to keep and many more important matters than undoing a perfectly legal marriage for Henry's whims."
"You will call him King Henry VIII!" England shouted, clenching his fists and advancing on the gluttonous cardinals. "Do not dare insult him!"
Sweat popped on the cardinal's forehead, betraying his nervousness. "What I call him is my own wish," he said with a shaky voice. "You overstep-"
"I am a country, I have no boundaries when speaking to cowardly men such as you. You have pushed my King and myself too far. I have come to tell His Holiness that if he will not annul the marriage, then we will do so ourselves. My King is prepared to implement the Act of Supremacy, which gives him supremacy over the Pope and his decisions."
"You come to tell us this in person?" barked the cardinal, drumming his fingers against his chair. "You come to threaten us with such false acts? No one is above His Holiness; your actions will have dire consequences. Who are you to defy the word of God?" His eyes narrowed at England. A spark of rage flared within his chest. He was tired of these pompous men!
"Your lack of compliance has forced us into this decision," England said, regaining his composure. It was clear he would not win against these men.
"You come all this way to mimic the words of your king, how droll," one of the cardinals said loudly with a chuckle.
"I come to say my farewells to Italy. That you are here is a side matter," he retorted, savouring the look of shock on their faces.
"How dare you speak to us that way!" one of them said, trying to sound mighty. Instead he sounded weak and pathetic. "You will not find Italy here, he is-"
"I'm through talking with you," England interjected, cutting through the man's words. "My King and I have asked for an audience with his Holiness on many occasions. Instead, I am met with blustering fools such as yourselves, incapable of any decision or action. If the Pope does not wish to see me, that is his problem not mine. Pass the message onto him when convenient; we're done trying to appease you."
With a swish of his cloak, England turned and left the audience chamber. There was one more person he had to see.
0O0
Austria: 1535
"...so that's why I can't be seen with you Feli."
A gentle breeze swept across the plains, causing the grass and wildflowers to flutter and ripple. The sun was shining and the air felt warm, almost humid. Two figures met here on this open field. Physically they were two steps away from each other. Emotionally, they were leagues apart.
Moments passed in silence, neither finding the words needed. Green eyes met brown, looked away in regret, then returned with determination. Brown eyes met green, wide with fear and confusion. They searched the familiar face, hoping for a smile, a laugh, a sign that what had taken place was all a bluff and nothing had fallen apart.
A voice broke the silence, soft yet firm.
"Arthur... that makes no sense."
"Feli... Desperate times call for desperate measures."
"Arthur... why? I thought we were friends? I thought our leaders were friends, I... I even made him Defender of the Faith! Why?"
"You know why Feli. I can't risk a civil war, not with France planning another skirmish. My King needs an heir, and his first two wives have given him girls. We both know girls cannot rule. I am not scared of the Holy Roman Empire, nor of Spain. It is their pressure that has forced Henry to take such steps. I have come to say goodbye Feli and to wish you luck during this war. I hope Austria treats you well."
"But Arthur, what about your soul? You will go to Hell for this, you know the consequences. Please Arthur, don't damn yourself for your King."
England moved forwards and embraced his old friend. "Feli I'm sorry. I know you care for me but... it has already been decided."
"Who will save you?" Feli snapped, breaking from his embrace, tears flowing. "We were supposed to be united, all of us! After all the fights and wars, we were still always together, all united by our faith. Arthur please, don't turn your back on us. On me."
England smiled, one of regret and wistfulness. "Feli, it's too late, the decision has already been implemented. I came to say goodbye and ask if you can convince the Pope recognise my new church as a separate entity."
"No! No I can't do that Arthur! Your eternal soul, you'll be damned. Please Arthur, don't do this! Please, I beg you!"
"I'm sorry Feli. As of now, I am excommunicated... I'm sorry."
"No... no no no... Arthur? Arthur! Please don't leave me!"
"I'm sorry... My ties with you and Rome are broken..."
Arthur turned and walked away, grass and flowers crushed under his feet. It had been done. The break with Rome and the establishment of a new church.
Brown eyes closed and a tear fell to the ground.
European medieval history is just full of back-stabbing, fighting and turn-coats... it's awesome! I'm so glad I studied it for A-levels at sixth form. Anyway some titbits of information for you:
There is no actual defined reason for Henry VIII's split with the Pope and Rome. Medieval Europe was a melting-pot of political, economic and social upheaval for many countries, all of which contributed to Henry's reasons for going against the Pope. It commonly believed that the lack of heir issue was the main reason for Henry's decision.
At the time of the Break with Rome, the Holy Roman Empire and Spain had the same man as their ruler, Charles V. Weird huh?
This man was nephew to King Henry VIII's wife, Catherine of Aragon. When Henry asked for an annulment from his wife (who's only living child was Mary I, poor Catherine had many miscarriages) naturally Charles got annoyed and as he controlled Italy at the time, he made sure the Pope wouldn't grant the annulment.
Catherine was actually married to Henry's older brother Arthur, who was supposed to be King, but unfortunately died when he was 15. Catherine and Arthur were married for 20 weeks.
The female ruler referred to at the start was Empress Matilda (so called because she was married to the Holy Roman Emperor at the time). She lived around the 1100s and was the only living heir to the throne. However, the throne was taken from her by rival (and cousin) Stephen of Blois who believed that no woman could rule. Their rivalry for the throne led to years of unrest and civil war in England.
If you're still interested, wiki is always good.