Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Showtime's The Tudors.
Author's Note: This fiction was inspired by saltandsea's Midlife Crisis challenge and will be a short story. I may have not followed the requirements religiously but I hope it's enough to satisfy. Please enjoy and feel free to give feedback. I won't bite you for being honest :)
Happy Writing
ClaraD
February 1541, Hampton Court
There was a rat-a-tat-tat at the door that informed King Henry that his guest had finally arrived.
He had been sitting in his study for the past hour when he decided that he wanted a little company. And what more delightful company could he acquire than that of his charming young wife.
"Enter!" Henry commanded and the usher entered the room, falling into such a low bow that Henry observed his nose was almost touching the floor. He could not help but chuckle a little at the spectacle, but managed to straighten his face by the time the young fellow stood tall again. After all, he had a game to play and he knew he couldn't fall at the first hurdle. He needed to retain a perfectly stoic composure.
"The Queen is here to see you, Your Majesty" he announced, and Henry solemnly inclined his head as answer that he would receive her.
Queen Katherine skulked unceremoniously over the room's threshold, not quite confident enough to enter the room but not bold enough to outright defy the King and leave him to his own devices. In truth, she was a little frightened of him, and it didn't help that he seemed to be wearing a face of thunder.
"Your Majesty summoned me?" Katherine managed to pipe up, her voice squeaking a little higher than usual.
"I did" was Henry's blunt response and he beckoned his wife towards him with a simple gesture of his hand.
Katherine was still unsure what had caused this very sudden assembly with the her husband. Her mind was racing. Had Henry found out about her disreputable past? About Mannox and Dereham? Or God forbid, her blossoming friendship with Thomas Culpepper. Oh, who was she kidding? It was more than just a friendship, it was love. She was in love with a man who was not her husband and now she feared for her life.
For her husband was not just any man. He was a King. A King with a most infamous reputation.
He had cast off his loyal and faithful first wife of 24 years on a whim, and banished her to live in poverty for the rest of her short life.
He had his second wife, Katherine's own dear cousin, arrested on trumped allegations and did not spare her the executioner's sword.
In his desperation for a male heir, he neglected his third wife's post natal health and allowed her to die from childbed fever.
And his fourth wife was shamed and humiliated all throughout their short and miserable seven months of marriage.
Katherine was now wife number five and privately she dreaded to think what fate awaited her. She knew she was playing with fire but she could not help it. The King could be the most generous, kind hearted and jovial man in all of Christendom when the mood took him. But when it did not, he was truly foul and was not one to be toyed with.
It seemed everything made him foul and odious these days.
His sore, weeping ulcer made him irritable and quick to anger. Katherine always tried her best to comfort him during these painful episodes, but the stench was too much for her. It smelt like rotting meat and made her heave until her stomach cramped. His eyes were failing him and he would always complain about the lack of light, often hitting the bumbling page who rushed to make his master more comfortable. He hated the fact that he was not as spritely as he once was. He could not joust or wrestle, it even pained him to walk up the stairs. He had to be lynched on to his horse any time that he wanted to ride and hunt, and you could see the poor beast wince as the heavy load was propped on to its back. Even then he would bemoan his horse for being slow and whip it into a frenzy in hope that it would make haste.
This is why she found Tom such a breath of fresh air. He was noble and brave, handsome and young, athletic and passionate. He was everything a young man ought to be and she worshipped the ground that he tread on. And the more she fell in love with Tom, the more revolting Henry became in her eyes.
It took all her will power to avoid staring at the mass of folding fleshing that he had become.
"Katherine Howard" he boomed, her name echoing throughout the room, "I have something here that incriminates you of a great crime" he announced.
Katherine nearly fainted on the spot!
She felt dizzy. She was going to be sick. Her heart was racing, it was almost as if there was a frightened animal locked in her chest and it was frantically trying to escape. Her throat was dry! She tried to speak but no words would come out. She fell to her knees in shock. She did not care that the fall had caused her to bash her knees on the hard, stone floor. What were knees when you didn't have a head?
"Oh please...y-y-y-your Majesty... if I...I...have done any...th-th-th-thing to offend... you...then I...I am..." she began to sob, clutching her hands together in hopes of appealing for his mercy. She could barely contain herself, nor string a sentence together coherently. There was so much sobbing and sniffling and spluttering that Henry was rather sorry he had gone so far in his little prank, though privately he was quite proud he had managed to convince his wife of his seriousness and congratulated himself upon his superb acting ability.
Now was the time to reveal his little joke, but he would not drop the charade just yet.
"Silence!" he commanded, and after a pathetic sniffle, Katherine managed to cease her sobbing. "Come hither and examine the evidence presented before you!"
She rose from her knees, tears still streaming down her face, and came to the King table. He pushed a black velvet box before her and indicated that she should open it. Cautiously, and dreading what she might find, she opened the box to reveal the contents lurking inside.
It was a pendent.
A beautiful pendent of emeralds, diamonds and rubies that twisted together to concoct a fantastic replica of a red Tudor rose hanging from a chunky gold chain.
"Your Majesty?" Katherine puzzled, furrowing her brow deeply as though she did not understand what was happening before her.
"Katherine Howard, I hereby charge you with stealing the King's heart. A most serious offence. And your punishment? That you have to wear this necklace every day for as long as you may live" he laughed heartily, lifting himself up from his seat so he could tie the thing around her pretty little neck and kiss her upon cheek.
Katherine was bewildered. She didn't know what to think.
"Oh Henry" she gushed, unsure whether she could cry from the torture he had put her through or laugh at the beauty of the jewels before her. But as soon as the cool jewels was pressed up against her breast she decided to take the whole ordeal in good humour. Even if it had made her age twenty years in just 3 minutes.
She had soon settled down and all the tears had been wiped from her face. Now she was sat upon Henry's lap and they were whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears.
"Are you happy, Katherine?" he asked after tickling her beneath her chin with his quill.
"Oh yes, your Majesty. So very happy" she beamed a dazzling smile at him, but her puffy and watery eyes betrayed her. She had tried her best to sound sincere but he noted the muscles around her mouth twitch as she tried her best to keep up a smile of pretences. He knew she was lying to him, although he thought it more out of kindness than deception.
"And you don't mind being married to an old fool like me?" he continued.
"Oh Henry!" she mocked outrage at such a comment, "you are not old and you are certainly not a fool" she chided playfully, stroking his arm in a comforting manner and playing with the shiny, golden buttons that adorn his sleeves.
"I am old enough to be your father" he reminded her, but Katherine scoffed.
"You are young enough to be my lover and that is all I could wish for" was her suggestive reply, licking her lips seductively before she dove into the crevice of his neck and began planting it with tender, succulent kisses. Her hand slowly began to snake its way down to her codpiece but before she could reach it, Henry knocked it away.
She pulled away and looked at him with wounded doe eyes, her lips trembling for fear she had angered or offended him.
But Katherine's tenderness only reminded him of his past prowess and how his current body was betraying him in the most humiliating of ways.
He used to make love to his first Catherine, his darling Spanish Infanta, every night and yet still have the stamina to carry on with one of his mistresses. With Anne, their passionate love making was so wild and ferocious that they would often wake up the next day as bruised as a battered apple. Even though he was in his mid 40s when he married his beloved Jane, neither of them were prudes in the privacy of the bedchamber and they would love each other deep into the early hours of the morning.
But with this Katherine, he could barely keep up with her. He had neither the stamina, nor the virility, nor even the will to compete with her drive. And it wasn't for want of trying.
Katherine was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes upon. She had an abundance of thick, auburn hair that cascaded over her ivory shoulders, a pair of mischievous grey eyes that were both intense and yet inviting all at the same time. She was pleasantly petite and lithe, he could sweep her up in his arms in one easy scoop. And her body? Even thinking of it now made Henry stir. Pert breasts, a plump backside and the most enchanting little enigma he had ever encountered.
So how come God would not grant him the ability to make love to this beautiful, tempting creature?
He felt like a failure and for the first time in his life he considered himself as an old man.
"Not tonight" he told her as gently as he could, summoning her to come and lie in the crook of his arm. She obeyed and snuggled into the folds of his crimson doublet and pressed her head against his chest. She could hear it beating through the fabric and its dull thudding lulled her into a light snooze.
He leant down and kissed her on the forehead.
This would have to suffice for now, he thought, nursing memories of his golden youth.
Three days later and Henry was itching for excitement and adventure.
The more he lamented upon his youth, the more he wanted to recreate it. And by God, when Henry Tudor had an idea in his head, he acted upon it.
He had decided that in the next few months he was going to hold a great jousting tournament, one so great that it would be recorded as being the most magnificent and spectacular tournament ever held. He, naturally would be the star of the show, and he was determined that he would compete in at least one match a day.
But he wasn't just focused on jousting, oh no! There would be falconry, archery and tennis too. He also planned on holding majestic banquets every night, fully accompanied by masquerade balls and dancing. He had made it his personal mission to dance every dance with a different woman and he would stay awake until two into the morning, and only then he would retire in order to take his beautiful wife to bed and make love to her for hours at a time. They would both be admired and adored by everyone and the whole world would see how virile and athletic the King of England was. Not the fat old man that they were all secretly accusing him of being.
He just needed to get in shape for it first.
And he thought he would begin his new fitness regime by going hunting with his best friend, Charles Brandon.
"How is your wife, Charles?" Henry asked as he busied himself loading his windlass with fresh arrows. He had wasted six of them already due to his unsteady arm and poor eyesight, but he hadn't the nerve to give up just yet.
"She is well" Charles informed, "Very well in fact. She is expecting again" he started grinning like an idiot, obviously proud of his virility and fertility.
A sudden chill overcame Henry that dampened his spirit and hopes.
"She is with child?" he repeated bitterly.
It seemed that Charles had all the luck. Despite the fact that Charles was a little older than him, he acted as though he were still twenty years younger. He was spritely, lively and still in tip top athletic shape. Sure he had his stumbles and he did not joust as well as he used to, but he was still a fine specimen of a man and his salt and pepper hair made him even more desirable in the eyes of women.
And now God had decided to grace him with the blessing of another child? It stung all the more when he realised that he was unlikely to impregnate Katherine any time soon due his seeming impotence. It pained him to even consider that the problem lay with him and not with her.
"I am happy for you" he lied, forcing his mouth into a smile that was strained and insincere. A fact that was not lost on Brandon. He was older and wiser and had more experience dealing with deception. He knew when to flatter the King, when to lie to him, when to champion and nurture his ventures, and most importantly, when to listen his ramblings.
"Tell me what is bothering you?" he encouraged.
"Nothing. Just age catching up with me" he dismissed as he cocked his weapon and rested it upon his lap, ready to go off in search for deer once more. But Charles wasn't about to give up that easily.
"You are as young as you feel" Charles smirked, hoping to prompt him into a deeper conversation.
"I don't feel young any more" was Henry's tart reply and he let his chin drop into his chest as ran his hand through his silver hair. He hated having to be so vulnerable in front of others, especially in front of a stud like Brandon. It was humiliating to have to admit that he was starting to feel his age and his body no longer worked as well as it used to.
Deep down, he knew his plans for the tournament and everything it represented was a lost cause. He would never be capable of withstanding such pressures on his now frail and decrepit body. It was difficult enough to hunt on horseback with his servants assisting him. And he hadn't shot one damned thing yet, though Charles and Thomas Culpepper had each brought a stag down unaided.
"Nonsense! You have a young wife who you couple with every night and..." but he was cut off by the a wave of a hand. Henry could no longer bear to hear any more.
"I cannot find the inspiration to couple with her any more" he shamefully proclaimed, his voice just above a whisper so that none of his other men could hear them.
Charles was a little shocked at this revelation and knew he had to tread carefully. One wrong word and he would lose the King's confidence and respect for ever. He didn't want to wound his ego, and especially not his dignity.
"Perhaps the Queen is not as pleasing as you would have hoped" he rationalised though truthfully he knew this was a lie. Every man at court admired pretty little Katherine Howard and if she had not been selected by the King he would have hoped to have had her in his own bed before now. "Have you tried to couple with another?" he enquired in hopes of laying the blame on someone else's door.
"No" Henry admitted, for he had become so despondent with his impotence that his lust for women had seemed to dissipate.
"Leave it with me. I will find you a fine young filly who will get the blood coursing through you veins. You will see you have nothing to worry about" Charles reassured him and for the first time Henry was filled of renewed hope.
He always knew he could rely on Charles. He could tell him his greatest fears, his darkest desires, his most humiliating secrets, and he would not laugh or judge him. He would listen attentively and offer impartial, practical advice. He was his rock and he knew that he could never do without him. He shot him a smile of gratitude and thanked him for his help.
They had a good hunt that day, having shot four stags and two deers (although Henry could only manage to kill a bird who stumbled into his crossfire, much to the amusement of everyone present) as well as flushing out a small colony of rabbits with their dogs. On the journey back, all Henry could think of was the young lady that Charles was certain would stir his passions. He did not intend to have a mistress with Katherine, for he adored every last inch of her, but if the young lady in question could help revitalise him, he would have to resign himself to it. He would not love her but would use her as a necessity to restore his passions. Who knows, she could even help restore his potency to such a level that he could love Katherine the way she ought to be loved.
That night he dreamed of buxom blondes, ravishing red heads and beautiful brunettes.
He was sure his mystery lady would be just the tonic he needed.
He could not wait to dip his toe into the fountain of youth once more.