Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, your comments are very much appreciated, so thank you again! I own none of these characters, events, or the TV show. The plot was not my concept, either (thanks to Birdman45 for that).

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Chapter Two: Winter of Discontent (Part II).

In an effort to relieve the gloom of a lightless day, all candles in the privy chamber had been lit. Their small flames wavered in the drafts while Catherine sat at the table, picking at some wheaten bread and honey. All the while her ladies looked on in anxious silence. They had only ever heard talk of the sweating sickness; it was a disease unheard of beyond England. Now it was on their doorstep and the worry showed in every face in the chamber. Already, two regular servants had succumbed to the illness and all were braced for more.

Prince Arthur paused in the doorway of the gallery that connected their bed chamber to the Privy Chamber and watched them for a moment. Anthony had dressed him in his outdoor cloak and riding boots. As part of their plan he needed Catherine to see him leave the Castle, to see him visiting an infected area of their lands in her unwitting role as chief witness.

He drew in a deep breath and cleared his throat to get her attention. "My Lady, I trust you're well?"

Catherine dropped the bread that was in her hand and dipped her sticky fingers in the small dish of water at the side of her plate.

"My Lord, will you join us?" she asked, her eyes were wide and eager. It pained Arthur to see her making such futile efforts.

"I cannot, I'm sorry," he replied as he bent down to kiss her cheek. "I must go out for an hour. I will not leave you for long, I promise."

Her face fell a little, her eager smile replaced with a frown of concern. He could guess what she was thinking, but she was too much the dutiful wife to question him. She glanced downwards for a moment, gathering herself and her still broken English.

"Please, be careful husband."

That was all she said. Arthur looked at her and felt a painful jolt at his heart. For a moment he considered the possibility of taking her with him. They could both play dead, then run away together and lead the life they both deserve. One free from the constraints of state and government. They could be happy, just the two of them ... once they got to know each other. But as soon as the idea flared, it fizzled out and died. He knew that he was already being selfish and taking Catherine with him would only be doubling that. A sad smile twitched at the corners of his mouth, he kissed her again and said his goodbyes.


Anthony was waiting outside with the horses already saddled, ready to leave. As Arthur emerged from the castle barbican, he hopped down from the low wall he was sat on and mounted the horse nearest to him. The day was overcast, the threat of rain heavy in the air and all colour drained from the land. Bleakly, Arthur surveyed it all.

"God has forsaken this land," he grumbled, by way of greeting. "What news from the town?"

"Another sixty dead, Your Grace. Now the outlying villages have been affected."

As Arthur suspected, the spread of the disease was intensifying. Soon, it would sweep across the whole of the country leaving a trail of dead and dying in its wake. They called it the "Tudor Curse"; unfairly since it first struck during the reign of King Richard. Arthur mounted his horse, and soon he and Anthony were cantering through the gates of Ludlow, out into the open countryside beyond the walls.

They rode as far as the stream that flowed through the bog lands and supplied the local town with their water supply. There, out of sight of sight of the Castle, they dismounted again. From here, they could see the town itself without getting too close to the affected areas. Hazy wood smoke mingled with the marsh mists that drifted in thin, wispy clouds on the breeze. Another shade of grey to add to the pallet of the bleak landscape that made up the valleys of Wales.

Arthur's gaze alighted on a wide-open pit in the earth. A mass grave, soon to be filled with the spent victims of the disease that ravaged the towns and villages. If he breathed in deep, he could catch the scent of quick lime and sulphur on the breeze. It made his stomach churn.

"God have mercy on them," Arthur whispered as he nuzzled his horse close.

"So say we all, Your Grace," Anthony replied, a sadness in his eyes as he took in the devastating panorama that rolled off in all directions. "Don't go down there, Your Grace. It's too dangerous."

"I won't. I just needed Catherine to see me go," he explained. "We'll stay out here for an hour and no more. I will speak to Catherine when I get back, so she will know I am home. When evening comes, I will send for you again and tell you I am sick. Fetch the physicians to my chambers, then get into the town. I need a body."

Anthony inwardly recoiled at the task ahead of him. He had his duty bred into him as much as the next knight. But this? This was going above and beyond anybody's call of duty.

"If I catch the contagion doing this," said Anthony with a wry smile. "I'll come back and haunt you, wherever you are!"

"I'll welcome your ghost with open arms," replied Arthur. "Wherever I end up."


Catherine was at prayer when Arthur returned to the Castle. He had to wait outside the Chapel for her to finish her devotions before he could see her. During the wait, he found himself thinking of reasons to bring her with him. Delivered from the pressures of State, he knew that he could love her and she him. But, underneath that devotion, beneath that veneer of placidity, she was a Princess and fully accustomed to her station in life. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift downstream. In a different time, a different place, living other lives, they could have been happy. They could have been normal.

"Husband," Catherine greeted him, rosary still entwined in her fingers as she emerged from the Chapel. "You are well?"

She looked at him so intensely it was though she were already looking for signs of illness in him.

"I am fine," he assured her. "I just wanted to let you know of my return. But I am tired. I will see you again at supper."

She looked up at him, her face pale and round, her eyes of sapphire that glittered in the flickering light of the beacons set in the brackets on the walls. He ran his hands through her lustrous auburn hair, tucking the loose strands behind her ears. He committed every last detail to memory, kissed her cheek and walked away. He could not look back.


The gloom outside the window intensified into a darkness that blotted out the day. Reports of fatalities poured in, the numbers growing by the hour now. But once the evening drew in, Arthur dismissed all of his servants and grooms, leaving him alone to prepare for his escape. He set warming pans inside his bed, making it as hot as possible. He used a smudge of soot from beneath the chimney breast to darken his eyes, a little to rub on the eye itself leaving them red and watery with irritation.

Anthony was sent for and he let himself into the chamber at eight o'clock in the evening. He added the finishing touches by mopping the Prince's brow in hot, damp water. He let the water penetrate the Prince's dark hair, making it cling to his scalp.

"Are you ready?" Anthony asked.

Arthur looked up at him between the dampened bedsheets and nodded. "Fetch the physicians."

Anthony bowed and backed away from the room without another word. His moment had come, and if they were caught out now there would be hell to pay with the King and the Council.

Arthur listened as Anthony's footsteps receded down the passageway outside and immediately turned on his side to affect unconsciousness. Not ten minutes later, the physicians were swarming around the room. They had cloths dipped in medicated water wrapped around the lower halves of their faces. A desperate measure people often took to ward off the ill humours of the sweat.

From across the room, the Physicians tried to make contact with Arthur. As he had predicted, none of them wanted to get too close to him. He merely mumbled incoherently and kept his eyes tight shut. He willed with all his heart that they would quickly give up and go away. But, they held out longer than he thought they would. One of them even dared to approach and measure his pulse.

That, however, was the end of their intrusion. Once they had gone, Arthur rolled over on to his back, and looked out of his window. Outside, a full moon shone high in the night sky. He looked up at it, shining indifferently on the lands below it, and lost himself in a train of thought. His mind drifted over everything he was leaving behind. His mother, his wife, and even Harry, Mary and Margaret. He would never see them again. He closed his eyes to stop the tears from spilling down his cheeks. He loved them all, even his father; he had to leave them all the same. He could stay and be pulled under or go and be free to live his life. There was no choice.


Anthony had been searching for almost three hours before he found what he had been looking for. The boy was the same age as Arthur, his hair was black and hung to shoulder length in waves. His skin was pale, like Arthur's, and closer inspection showed that he had the same vividly blue eyes. Or at least the corpses eyes would have been vivid if he wasn't a corpse.

Anthony covered his hands with the gloves he'd taken from the stables and hauled the body into the barrow taken from the gardens. Feeling utterly repulsed, he hauled the body back to the Castle, hiding it in the empty chapel while he waited for servant's entrances and corridors to empty for the night.

Dragging the body up several flights of back stairs, up a narrow spiralling staircase, was heavy work. Half way up, Anthony stopped to consider the Knight's code again. This was definitely not in it, but his loyalty to Arthur was absolute. Not wanting Arthur to actually see his deceased doppelgänger, he left it in the outer chamber, covered in a shroud liberated from the chapel, just in case any late-night servant chanced upon it. It was almost two in the morning.

Arthur was already up and about when Anthony re-entered the Chamber. He was pulling a clean pair of breeches on. A clean shirt was already on his back. He whirled around as Anthony entered the room.

"Is it done?" he asked, all wide-eyed anticipation.

"It is, Your Grace," replied Anthony with a bow. "Please, let me wash, I feel disgusting."

Anthony did not wait for an answer. He crossed the room, his face screwed up in revulsion, and splashed hot water over his face and hands, rubbing at his skin vigorously. Arthur watched, the guilt swelling inside him. He had put his most loyal friend in grave danger.

"I am sorry, Anthony," Arthur said. "If anything does happen … I'll never forgive myself."

"It won't. I will be fine."

For a moment, the two of them looked at each other and tried to find the right words to say as the moment of departure drew near. Anthony glanced about the room as though looking for something. The reality was that he wanted to hide the tears that now shone in his eyes.

"The Physicians," said Anthony. "They fell for it?"

"As I thought, they did not even want to get close enough to check properly," Arthur explained as he distracted himself from his own emotions by throwing a cloak over his shoulders. "Well, it is time to go."

"I packed this for you," Anthony said as he reached into a cupboard and produced a satchel. "There is food and a skein of wine in it. Some clothes, too."

Arthur thanked him and took the bag, into which he added some valuable gold jewellery. It could be sold for much needed cash on the road. The vast majority of his belongings, however, he would have to leave behind. The dead don't take anything with them and he knew that everything would have to be accounted for after his "funeral".

Anthony led the way back down the turnpike stairs, towards the rear exit of the Castle. Occasionally, Arthur would have to duck into an alcove to avoid a night guard or wandering servant. As he passed the Princess's chambers, his heart gave a painful jolt. He could just make out the muffled voices from the opposite side of her door. Her thick Spanish accent, her ladies laughing at some in joke they shared. Anthony saw him, saw the look in his eyes.

"It is not too late to back out, Your Grace," he said.

Arthur thought of it and, for a second, he was tempted. But, he knew that he would never have another chance like this one. A chance he knew he had to seize with both hands. He shook his head and they carried on until they were out in the open yard. Arthur's horse was already saddled, courtesy of Anthony's forward planning. Once he was mounted, Arthur pulled a gold ring from his index finger. It was encrusted with diamonds and small rubies.

"Take this," he said, leaning down from his mount to push it in Anthony's hands. "Sell it or remember me by it."

"Your Grace, I-"

"No," Arthur cut him off. "Take it for your trouble and loyalty to me. Tell them I was buried with it or they'll demand it back."

Anthony closed his hand over the ring and looked up into Arthur's face. Already, the burden seemed lifted from his young shoulders. He took the horse's bridle and started leading him towards the gates in a final act as a servant to his master.

"You never did tell me where you are headed, Your Grace."

"Wherever the road takes me," answered Arthur. "I'll know when I get there."

They stopped at the gates. Anthony let go of the bridle. His duties were over. Almost.

"One more thing, Anthony. Look after Princess Catherine and her Ladies. I think your brother, William, is more than interested in Maria de Salinas. Make sure they're all made happy when I am gone."

"Gladly, Your Grace," he replied solemnly. "And Arthur, whatever happens, know that I will take your secret to the grave, so long as you swear to stay safe."

"I so swear," he replied.

Briefly, they clasped hands, and Anthony slapped the horse's hind quarter, making it move off. He watched as Arthur Tudor, former Prince of Wales, rode out into the cold March night, slipping into the darkness, and out of sight.


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