Disclaimer: I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.
A/N: Hello to all my new favs/followers: anime-aquarion-fan, 10868letsgo, EnglishKitsune, charista, 19baby94, aniaco, insha-la, HPuni101, Zoie10135, RiverDragon203, svls1234, lili316, SongsofSiren, PetiteSouris1199, Arianna Le Fay, ashes9492, autumnfall1989, CelticWitch18, littledoodle, stilestark, kvdsouza, and snoowbunnie.
Ch. 4
A man's character is his fate.
~Heraclitus
What is better than wisdom? Woman. And what is better than a good woman? Nothing.
~Geoffrey Chaucer
I am the king's loyal subject. I say no harm I think no harm, but I wish everybody good. And if this be not enough to keep a man alive in good faith I long not to live.
~Sir Thomas More, The Tudors
Crosby Hall 27 September 1533
Sir Thomas More opened the doors to the entering chambers of his house, a maid answering the door in front of him. Bishop Tunstall appeared, surprising More. He had not seen the bishop for some time, not since the official vote to place the king as the head of the church.
"Bishop Tunstall," More says, bowing to his grace as the maid hung up the bishop's purple cloak.
"Sir Thomas," Tunstall says, returning the formalities.
"Please." More motions for the bishop to sit at his dining table which is covered in books and papers.
"Thank you."
"To what do I owe this honor?" More is skeptical of the bishop's visit, his eyebrows raising up in curiosity.
"We have known each other a long time, Sir Thomas. Now you've retired from public life and I never see you." Tunstall chuckles at his words, but More does not buy his act entirely. He knows something must have caused the bishop to visit him. "Naturally, I was concerned about your welfare," Tunstall continues.
"I am very well, thank you." More goes to sit across from Tunstall, sighing as he does so. "But I am I am exercised by the fact that one of our old acquaintances is still under house arrest." More throws the bait and Tunstall takes it.
"You mean Bishop Fisher? Yes, the outcome is regrettable." Tunstall's voice is sincere, but the transgression in unknown to More.
"The outcome of what?" More questions.
"His intransigence." Tunstall is aggressive in his tone, leaning forward to emphasize his meaning.
"I see." More nods his head. "Tell me has the king sent you here to see me?" More knows this could be the only possible reason why Tunstall is there.
"His Majesty wondered why you did not attend the queen's coronation as you were invited to do." Tunstall finally admits the purpose of his visit. He can see a movement behind More's head and Grace sticks her head out behind an archway as she looks at the bishop curiously.
"Well, in answer to that, let me Let me show my poor mind to you," More responds, not realizing his niece was present. Tunstall goes to say that Grace was present but is cut off by More's story. "There's a story about the Emperor Tiberius. He had enacted a law, which exacted death for a certain crime unless the offender was a virgin." Tunstall leans back in his chair, not minding Grace as his listens to More's story. Her uncle would deal with her later. "Now, when a virgin eventually appeared on the charge the emperor didn't know exactly how to proceed. So, one of his council proposed the perfect solution: Let her first be deflowered so she then can be devoured." Tunstall is in shock at More using such a gruesome story. "There are some and, no, I won't name them who first procure you for the coronation, next to preach at it, and then to write books defending it. Thus, they deflower you, and will not fail soon afterwards to devour you. But they shall never deflower me." More's voice is resolute in his statement as he locks eyes with Tunstall. He turns his head to the side for a moment, knowing Grace was there as he had seen her from the corner of his eye. She does not move from her spot, but comes forward bravely, bowing to the bishop. "Grace, would you please get the bishop some ale before he departs back to his bishopric?" he asks politely. Grace nods, following her uncle's orders, and disappearing from the room. "My niece, always the curious one," More chuckles. "Now Bishop Tunstall, the king must be waiting for my reaction to your visit. I suggest you leave now so as to deliver my answer sooner rather than later."
Bishop Tunstall is appalled at More's behavior, sputtering for a moment and then rising from his chair as quickly as his old bones would let him so as to leave the manor. He leaves the room, More hearing a maid open the door for and behind the bishop as he leaves. Grace then enters the room, no ale in her hands at all. She knew the bishop would not be staying for refreshments. "It would be wise for you not to be seen or heard Grace. Eavesdropping is not an admired trait in a woman," More scolds jokingly. Grace sends a sly smirk at her uncle.
"You were right to answer him the way you did uncle. Tiberius is an excellent example, though I might have said Nero for the king is fiddling while England burns." More is impressed with his niece, but her words sent a shiver down his spine. The king was turning into a Roman dictator whether he realized it or not.
Palace of Placentia October 1533
Queen Anne and her ladies sit in the queen's chambers admiring the little princess. Mary, Anne's sister, lifts her from a basinet, cooing at her niece. The other ladies laugh in delight at the princess' actions, but then the princess begins to cry.
"She's hungry," Anne says, rocking her daughter in her arms after Mary had given the baby to her. No one notices the king watching them, smiling at the scene. However, Anne goes to reach for her dress, but the king stops her, interrupting the moment.
"What are you doing?" Henry asks, surprising the women.
"Your Majesty," all of Anne's ladies say, bowing to their king.
"May I not feed her from my own breast?" Anne questions, wanting to feed her daughter.
The king makes a clicking sound with his tongue in a scolding manner. "Queens don't do that, especially not for a daughter. Give her back to her wet nurse." Henry steps forward, reaching for his infant daughter. He holds his daughter expertly and presses a kiss to the top of her head. "The princess will shortly be given her own establishment at Hatfield. Among others, the Lady Mary will attend and wait on her."
"Katherine's daughter?" Anne questions delicately, not wanting to upset the king with her skepticism on the matter.
"Yes. It is well that she knows her new place." Henry reaches his hands out for Anne, taking her hands in his. "Secretary Cromwell is arranging it. He will also send a letter to the Duke of Warwick about his daughter being her head lady-in-waiting with your aunt Lady Shelton and Lady Bryan as her main caretakers."
"I will still give you a son," Anne says determinedly. She leans forward and presses sensuous kisses on the king's cheek and corners of his mouth. "Come soon, my darling, to my hot bed."
"Ladies," the king says politely as he steps back from Anne and begins to leave her chambers. Anne sees his eyes flicker to Lady Eleanor Luke, one of her ladies.
"Majesty." The woman all bow as the king leaves, Anne sending a sharp look towards Lady Eleanor. She would get rid of the lady somehow. Her place would not be threatened by some immoral wench.
Hatfield House, Hertfordshire, 20 October 1533
Mary enters Hatfield silently, her eyes held to the ground as she walks forward. She is not a princess here, just a lady. The servants may still bow, but only because she was the daughter of the king. She wished Grace was with her, but Warwick refused Cromwell's offer under the pretense that Grace had a weak constitution and was always sick. It was a lie, but Cromwell did not know the girl nor did anyone at court. She was kept away from the English court, growing up in France before becoming a lady to Mary who resided at Ludlow and rarely traveled to court. And now, Mary and Grace were separated. Another lady led Mary into the inner chamber of the house. "The Lady Mary, Lady Bryan."
"Lady Mary." Lady Bryan waves her forward with her hand and begins walking through the rooms of the manor. "Welcome to Hatfield, your new home. I am Lady Margaret Bryan, the princess's governess. These other ladies are also here to attend the princess as, of course, are you. Lady Mary, may I present you to Her Highness the Princess Elizabeth." Mary stares at her new half-sister, neither glaring nor smiling. She was indifferent. It was not the baby's fault that she had been displaced. The wet nurse rocks Elizabeth in her arms, sending a not so kind look at Mary. She ignores it, instead looking to Lady Bryan. "You will be shown to your room. You will begin your duties in the mornings, after prayers."
"I shall say my prayers alone," Mary says stubbornly as Lady Bryan walks away to discuss matters with the steward and other members of the household.
"This is your room, milady," one of ladies-in-waiting says, showing Mary a small room with a window and a bed. No other furniture was in the room. Mary walks around the confines of the room, taking in her surroundings. She was reduced to nothing in her eyes and it hit her immediately as she practically collapse onto the bed in a heap, warm tears dripping down her face. This was her reality now and Grace was no longer there to protect her.
Hatfield 13 December 1533
The Duke of Warwick had been able to get permission from Cromwell for Grace to visit Mary, though under supervision by Lady Bryan. Mary was relieved, having been separated from her friend for almost six months. Having traveled from Warwick Castle, Grace was allowed to stay with Mary for no more than three days, as Cromwell had dictated. He saw no threat from the Nevilles, all having signed the Oath of Supremacy and Succession, but he did not wish to test the king. Instead of reveling Warwick's true purpose of his letter, Cromwell had said that Grace wished to visit the Princess since she would have been her lady-in-waiting and therefore, she wished to pay her respects. The king had agreed, barely listening as he dealt with matters of state.
The girls were currently walking in the gardens of Hatfield, one of the maids walking behind them so as to supervise their actions. It was unusually warm for November, both having discarded their cloaks to soak in the sunshine. Both girls wore dresses of dark color, Mary's being her daily black dress while Grace wore one of maroon, and they also both wore golden crosses around their neck. They were walking arm-in-arm, giggling as they spoke in hushed whispers and continued looking behind them at the maid who was doing anything, but paying attention to them. She wasn't the brightest of girls, that much was evident by the way she stared at everything like a child. It was a miracle how she had been able to keep her job for this long, but she only was a maid. She could be replaced as easily as she had been hired.
Waiting for the right moment, the girls darted off down the path and out of sight of the maid. They laughed at their antics, being carefree for the first time in a while. However, Mary became silent when they entered the courtyard. Three horses were being watered, one of them wearing the insignia of the king. Mary felt her throat tighten in anguish. Her father was here, the man had she hadn't seen nor heard from for years.
Grace noticed her friend's change in attitude, spotting the problem immediately. "Come," she urges her friend, let's go inside." Mary nodded, comforted by the presence of her friend. They entered the manor quietly, tiptoeing so no one could hear them. The noise of voices reached their ears, the king speaking to Lady Bryan about the princess' care. Grace took ahold of her friend's hand, leading Mary away from the princess' chambers and towards her temporary ones. Though Grace's room did not have a window that showed the courtyard, a set of doors opposite her room led onto a balcony overlooking the courtyard.
For some reason, Mary felt pulled to step out onto the balcony. Coincidently, the king was just leaving Hatfield, making his way back towards London after his hunting trip.
Walking towards his horse, Henry felt as if someone was watching him. He halted, seeing a figure on the balcony out of the corner of his eye. He turned, seeing his pearl Mary standing there, unsure of what to do. She fidgeted with her hands and her eyes kept going back and forth between him and the ground on which she stood. A girl stood behind her, though he had no clue who she was. Her eyes haunted him, the way they held a fiery glare, but also a look of pity.
Henry turned his attention back to Mary, bowing as protocol dictated. Mary did the same, bowing shakily while the girl behind her never took her eyes off Henry as she bowed shallowly, her knees barely moving and her eyes fierce. She clearly held little respect for him, that was for sure. Henry paid no mind to it though, walking towards his horse and mounting. He sent Mary one last look, seeing the girl behind her grasping her hand in a comforting manner. Even though he acted like he didn't care, Henry was pleased to know his pearl had a friend, a very powerful friend at that matter; but, he did not know who this mysterious girl was. He would find out, sooner or later.
Hatfield 20 January 1534
Anne had been able to escape court for some time with her daughter, having just announced to court and Henry that she was again pregnant. She held her daughter in a motherly manner, pressing small kisses to her cheeks and forehead. Her ladies cooed at the princess. She was a joyful child, always giggling and never crying.
Handing her over to the wet-nurse, Anne spoke to the Lady Bryan. "Before I leave, I wish to say something to the Lady Mary." Lady Bryan was taken aback for a moment before motioning for a maid to retrieve Mary from her rooms. Mary entered the princess' chambers, bowing out of duty rather than respect. Anne came forward, speaking, "Lady Mary, I am here in kindness. I would welcome you back to court and reconcile you with your father if you will only accept me as queen." Anne was sincere in her words, though what she desired most was to be recognized as queen by Mary. This would give her complete power if the daughter of Katherine conceded to her request. However, Mary's stubbornness won.
"I recognize no queen but my mother. But if the king's mistress would intercede with the king on my behalf then I would be grateful." Mary was passive aggressive in her voice, waiting for the so-called queen to react. Anne's body went stiff and her eyes narrowed before she sent a look at Mary to leave. Mockingly, Mary bowed before returning to her rooms. The late princess would be harder to control than Anne had thought.
Raby Castle 18 February 1534
"She's beautiful," Grace remarks as she stares down at her new baby niece. Her brother Christian's wife, Mary, had just given birth to their third daughter, Eleanor. Their elder two daughters, Christina who was almost three and Elizabeth who was barely a year old, sat beside their mother. Christina sat curiously at her mother's side, giggling at the baby whilst Elizabeth did not understand what the big fuss was about. Grace was also rejoicing for Mary's birthday was today as well. Though they were separated, the birth of her niece made her believe something good was to happen for Mary.
Christian was beaming with delight. He was the third son, so he did not have to worry as much about an heir to the dukedom as his elder brother did. He loved his girls and would not trade them for sons. They were his pride and joy. The other members of the Neville family were also in the room, admiring the sight of the little family. Richard and his wife, Anne, along with their three sons were present. The boys showed little interest in their cousins, wanting to be out riding rather than being stuck inside. Anne held their youngest son in her arms, him being just a little over a month older than his cousin. Arthur also showed the same interest, though he held his tongue and stood silently while his nephews fidgeted from being still for too long.
Sir Thomas More was also present, chatting quietly with Warwick and his middle son John, who all were discussing Grace at the moment. Now was the time to tell her the plan, to inform her of what she must do. The queen was again pregnant, meaning the king's eye would begin to wander and hopefully, his eye would land on Grace.
"Grace," Warwick says to his daughter, "let's go to my study with your uncle. We need to discuss something." Grace nodded her head but was confused why her father was dragging her away from the special scene in front of her. They made their way to the study, all eyes following after them. They all knew what was to happen, but they didn't have the heart to warn Grace. They were ashamed of what their father and uncle would ask her. But, his holiness the pope would be forever grateful as would the emperor. Ambassador Chapuys had already garnered the support of Katherine for a such a plan, the abandoned queen giving her blessing and forgiveness.
"What is it, father?" Grace questions as they arrive at her father's study. Richard sends a grim look toward his brother-in-law, dreading telling Grace what was to happen. Noticing his disposition, Grace's demeanor changed immediately, her cheery face turning serious. "What is it?" she continued, waiting impatiently for her father's answer. She turned to her uncle, but he wouldn't look her in the eye, confirming Grace's suspicion.
"Since the birth of the new princess, the king and queen have been trying to extend positions to you in the princess' establishment at Hatfield. I declined those offers, saying you were sickly and that it would not benefit the princess. The queen has also asked that you be one of her ladies since some of them have been dismissed for misconduct. I also declined the offer with the same reason, but now the queen is pregnant and perhaps it would be wise to accept her offer," Richard relays to his daughter. Grace looks at him skeptically, wondering where her father was going with this.
"And why would the queen's pregnancy have anything to do with accepting the position?" Grace questions. More steps forward, thinking it wise that her continue the discussion.
"Because the king's eye is sure to wander while the queen is pregnant." More's words are sharp and to the point.
Grace's eyes light up in understand and she begins to shake her head fervently. "No," she replies angrily and stubbornly, "I won't do it. You can't make me."
More steps forward, grasping his niece's hands in his own. "You must understand why we are doing this Gracie. You must put yourself in his way and bring him back to the Catholic faith."
"And sacrifice my purity for him?" Grace retorts, her face turning red and her hands bunching up into tight fists.
"Queen Katherine has given her permission as has the emperor and the Pope. Ambassador Chapuys has told me all will be forgiven. You will be admired my dear and will be given the highest honors for your efforts," More says to his niece, trying to calm her temper.
"Even if God himself asked me, I still wouldn't do it," Grace replies defiantly. She hastens out of the room and slams the door behind her. Richard exhales in frustration, shaking his head at his retreating daughter.
"Don't worry," More mutters. "She will forgive you for asking. It's whether she will listen or not that needs to be worried about."
"It's too much to ask of her," Richard responds. "She will only resist."
"Perhaps it will be her stubbornness that will catch his eye," More says thoughtfully. "Maybe Grace's resistance to the king will be all we need."
"How?" Richard asks.
"What the king does not have he will do anything to get." The conversation ends with those words, both men knowing that if Grace will not agree to the plan that maybe the king's eye would fall on her without their efforts. After all, the king loved a challenge.
Crosby Hall 6 April 1534
It had been two months since More and Warwick had discussed with Grace the plan to catch the king's attention. She was still angry, only speaking to both men if necessary. She could not believe the nerve of them. Mary would be furious if she knew, but she would forgive Grace.
Grace was currently residing at her uncle's estate, visiting with her cousins. She was walking with Margaret in the gardens that morning, More trailing behind them enjoying the fresh air. He knew not to push Grace. She would talk to him when she was ready.
However, out of nowhere, the king's guards appeared. Margaret and Grace were both frightened, looking to More for an answer. He merely told them to stay where they were and to not interfere. The guards grabbed him harshly and began to push him towards the manor, relaying that he had been called to court for questioning. Grace did not listen, approaching the guards and demanding that they release her uncle. Several of the guards ignored her, others laughed, but one seemed to think that handling Grace roughly would keep her quiet.
The guard grabbed Grace harshly, thinking violence was the answer for the situation. This made Grace cry out in pain and demand that the guard release her. Instead, she was pushed harshly to the ground and she cried out in pain as her shoulder roughly collided with the hard earth. She grasped the sensitive flesh with her hand, whimpering at such treatment. Margaret rushed forward, horrified at the sight as she wrapped her arms around her cousin.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" More shouted angrily, struggling against the guards that held him as he tried to go to his niece. "That is the Duke of Warwick's daughter." The guard's pleased expression then turned to realization. His bravado suddenly disappeared as his face turned white. "You will be punished for your irrationality," More continued. "My brother-in-law will make sure of that and to bring the matter up with the king for such mistreatment of a woman and a noble woman at that. You can be sure of that."
More was further dragged down the path of the garden, Margaret and Grace both calling out for him. "No, my darlings, no," he urges them.
"Father," Margaret cries, but More shakes his head. The cousins hold each other, both crying, as they see the most important man in their life be dragged away to his fate.
Lambeth Palace 13 April 1534
Sir Thomas More had been escorted by guards immediately to the River Thames, a boatman rowing him toward Lambeth Palace in order for him to attend his hearing. It was silent the entire journey there as neither man spoke to each other. More didn't dare abandon the small rowboat for his family would be punished if he did so. The guards had threatened him in this way. Nearing the river entrance to Lambeth, the boat man reached for the wall of the castle, halting the boat in order for More to step off carefully.
More stood, balancing himself as he held onto the wall of the castle. He stepped off the rowboat and onto the hard ground of the castle floor, a guard waiting for his arrival. He made his way up the winding staircase behind the guard who escorted him through the castle until they met a bishop in his red finery. More was then led to a room where Cromwell, Canterbury, and others were waiting. He entered the room with a hint of pride in his step and he met all eyes of the men trying him for his supposed treachery against the king who was nowhere in sight.
More came to a chair which stood at the center of the room, the men trying him sitting at a long table in front of him. The men say nothing, More sitting down in the chair instead of bowing to the clergy members and members of the king's household. He clears his throat and waits for their words.
"Sir Thomas?" the Archbishop of Canterbury asks, "Are you now ready to swear the oath?"
"May I see it?" More question, confusing the clergymen. The archbishop waves a friar forward who hands the document to More. "Thank you," More says. Cromwell looks bored with the proceeding, licking his lips and appearing unamused.
"Well?" Canterbury asks.
More looks thoughtfully at the document as he gives his opinion of it. "I don't mean to put at fault this oath or its makers or any man who swears to it. And I will never condemn the conscience of any other man." Cromwell looks uneasy as he stares at More who continues to deliver his opinion. "But for myself, in good faith my own conscience so moves me that I will swear to the validity of the succession yet not the rest of it without jeopardizing my soul to perpetual damnation." More is absolute in his answer. He truly believes that the rest of the oath is an evil to himself and to his majesty, but that is not what the clergy thinks.
"We are very sorry to hear you say this. You're almost the first to refuse it and your refusal will cause the King's Highness to be both indignant and suspicious of you," Bishop Tunstall says, remembering the conversation he had held with More all those months ago.
"Here are all the members of the Commons and the Lords who have sworn to take the oath. The clergy too," Another clergy member responds, in shock that More would not agree with the men of Christ.
"I myself cannot swear. But I do not blame any other man who has sworn," More folds his hands in his lap as he speaks, his eyes held downward before he looks around the room warily.
"Sir Thomas," the Archbishop responds quite aggressively, "we have come to the conclusion that far from being a true and loyal servant to His Majesty there never was a servant so villainous so traitorous to his prince as you." More glares at Canterbury angrily, scoffing at his words. He was no true servant to his majesty, but to himself and his evil Lutheranism while More always tried to do things as God and his majesty willed.
"If you refuse to take the oath not only will you be imprisoned but the most horrid things imaginable will be done to you," Bishop Tunstall relays, hoping More would submit.
"My lords, these threats are for children, not for me," More mutters, annoyed with their words.
"Do you deny that you bullied and persuaded the king against his conscience, to write this pamphlet against Luther?" More has a glimpse of recognition in his eye as he sees the familiar pamphlet, remembering his meeting with Cromwell who warned him what would occur. He makes eye contact with the man, but Cromwell breaks it.
"Of course, I deny it. In the first place, I would never ask anyone be he ever so high or so low, to act against his conscience. And secondly, I remember it was His Majesty who persuaded me of the paramount importance of the papacy." More speaks clearly and to the point. The actions of the king were now used as a type of weapon against him, seeing that the king had supported his ideas about Lutheranism and More doing the same for the king. He never manipulated his majesty, but instead, the king had sought him out for advice in this great matter.
"I ask you a final time before the awful penalties are exacted upon you why will you not swear?" More stares down at his folded hands as Canterbury speaks. He says nothing and lifts his eyes to look at the men who were his jury as if to say he was ready to embrace anything they would do to him for the sake of Christianity. "Why will you not swear?" Canterbury raises his voice, but More does not budge. He remains silent and would continue to do so as he was locked in the tower and hidden away from the world.
Whitehall Palace 27 April 1534
The sound of thundering hooves could be heard as several riders were spotted approaching Whitehall. A messenger had been sent ahead to alert the guards and palace servants of his master's arrival since he had not been summoned but was appearing on his own volition. One of the pages alerted Cromwell immediately, entering his office and whispering into the secretary's ear. Other pages looked on in interest but returned to their work with a sharp look from Cromwell. Cromwell was taken aback and unprepared for what he heard, rising from his desk and making his way to the palace gates, the page on his heels.
Cromwell hastened slowly to the gates, making sure no one could see how perturbed he was by this man's arrival. His body language would alert everyone of how agitated he was and so he had to control his emotions carefully, otherwise gossip would occur. Arriving in the courtyard outside the palace, he waited for the uninvited guests to arrive. He could hear the horses nearing, their hooves striking the earth hardly, and then he saw them, each riding a magnificent steed decorated in the Duke of Warwick's finery.
The duke himself entered the courtyard first, Grace holding on to her father as she had sat behind him during the journey. His elder three sons followed, each handling their horses with ease as they pulled the reigns and halted them. The duke circled Cromwell, taunting him as he rode his black stallion. He then halted directly in front of the secretary, staring down at the secretary with such a harsh gaze that Cromwell fidgeted uncomfortably.
Clearing his throat before speaking, Cromwell spoke, "We were not expecting you, your grace."
"Of course, you weren't, but I still expect me and my family to be accommodated after our long journey. I wish to speak to the king immediately about Sir Thomas More's imprisonment." Neville's voice was filled with combination of authority and anger directed at the king for his actions against More.
"My lord, I will see to it the king receives your message and that the servants prepare your rooms as soon as possible." Cromwell bows, showing that he was departing to perform what he had just said.
"Cromwell," Neville says, making the man stop in his tracks and turn around with a questioning look on his face. "I have sent the king letters and he has not responded as you have made clear. I suggest you deliver my message to him yourself." Cromwell nodded to the duke in understanding before returning to what he had been about to do. As he walked further away from the group, Cromwell could only think what would now happen since Warwick had come to More's rescue.
The Duke of Warwick's rooms had been prepared quite quickly, Cromwell ordering the servants about during the entire process as he feared the duke's wrath. The duke's family arrived at the rooms, tired after their journey. However, they knew there could be no wait for their petition to the king. All changed from their riding clothes to court clothes before departing to the king's presence chamber. Meanwhile, Warwick recommended to his daughter that she should take a walk in the gardens and that he would fetch her after his talk with the king.
Becoming rather bored in the rooms as her father said she would, Grace departed to the palace gardens, bringing her copy of Utopia with her. She was dressed in finery that reflected her status as a duke's daughter, a fine blue dress with silver and white embroidery on the bodice and neckline. On her neck was a simple gold cross and, in her hair, a French hood decorated with pearls was held secure in her hair. As she moved through the palace, she tried to stay unnoticed, but since hers was a new face at court, many people began to ask who the new lady in court was.
After traveling through the many twists and turns of the palace as well as walking down some staircases, Grace was finally in the gardens. Hedges lined the paths as well as the famous roses of the Tudors and Grace enjoyed the pretty sight. She walked for a few minutes, taking in the fresh air and delighted with the beautiful landscape of the gardens. Coming to a fountain in the middle of the garden, Grace sat down on the edge, opened her book, and began to read. The sun was warm on her face and a light breeze filtered through the air, a perfect spring day.
So immersed in her book, Grace had sat in the garden for hours, already halfway through the book when the hour of dinner was upon her. Still, she did not notice the change in day as she continued to read her book, nor did she notice the sound of footsteps. The king and Suffolk were walking in the gardens, Henry now exhausted from a day's work as he had been stuck in his presence chamber all day. He rubbed his face tiredly. Charles knew all this work as well as More's imprisonment was taking a toll on his body. It was too much work for one man, even a king.
The two men continued walking in silence, the king finally able to relax. Soon Anne would give birth, hopefully to a son and his wait for an heir would be over. Charles hoped for the king's sake that he would see Anne was turning him against his most loyal friend and that even if she did give him a son, that he would return to his old ways.
Coming to an opening in the hedges, the men turned left, the fountain coming into view. Charles spotted Grace, recognizing the duke's daughter immediately. Henry was immersed in his thoughts, looking up from the ground when he caught sight of Grace. He had no clue who she was, but judging by her clothing, he knew her to be the daughter of one of his nobles. Unlike most women of the court, this lady was reading and had been for quite some time the way she didn't take her eyes from the book. She didn't dress up as gaudy as many of the women did, but simple and regal as Anne did.
Both men halted, thinking it unwise to startle the lady. Grace had already hurt the crunch f gravel under their feet and looked up from her book because of the noise. No one was in front of her, a confused look appearing on her face. She then turned to look behind her, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of the king and the Duke of Suffolk. She rose from her sitting position quickly, turning her body and curtsying to both men. Her book fell to the ground forgotten, sitting in the dirt because of her carelessness. She held the position for a few moments, her eyes glued to the fountain. However, when Suffolk started towards her to raise her from her curtsy and inquire why she was alone, a voice called to her over the hedges. She turned her head towards the voice, relieved that she had been freed from the awkward position.
"Grace, where are you darling?" It was the duke searching for his daughter. Saved from the encounter, Grace hurriedly made her way to her father, forgetting her book in her haste. She sent one last look towards the pair of great men before disappearing behind one of the hedges. Her book had been completely forgotten in her haste, the king noticing it lying open on the dirt. He picked up the object from the ground, closing it to see the title Utopia upon the front of the book. The title glared up at him mockingly, reminding him of his imprisoned friend.
Opening the book to the front page, Henry came to see a note inscribed on the inside cover dated 1524. It read:
To my dear niece, Grace Neville, daughter of Richard Neville of Warwick and Anne More, in honor of her tenth birthday. May your days be filled with wonder and your help for the world never fade. Your hope for a perfect world has always inspired me and I hope you may see it come true with your efforts.
With Love,
Uncle Thomas
Henry stared at the note in shock, rereading the note over and over again. He had now discovered the identity of the mysterious woman. Neville had come to him, petitioning on More's behalf. The king had listened, half interested, half bored and had dismissed Neville upon the notion that perhaps a formal meeting would be better in front of all his courtiers so as to demonstrate his power if anyone crossed him. However, Grace changed everything. Because of this note, Henry's hard interior had cracked, and he began to question why he had imprisoned his friend.
30 April 1534
Today was the day that the Duke of Warwick and his family would be formally presented to court. Warwick along with his sons Richard, John, and Christian had risen long before Grace had, considering what they would say to the king in front of the entire court. They knew what the king's tactic was, to assert that More was indeed guilty of his actions and those who crossed him, even the most loyal of friends, would be punished. Warwick was nervous, but even more so for Grace who told him of her encounter with the king and Suffolk. The king had her most prized possession and she had forgotten it in her haste to never be near him. She thought him disgusting. She loathed him, hated him. He was more of a tyrant than a monarch to her, more similar to the devil than the right hand of God as she had said in her own words. And she had cried herself to sleep for letting her fear of him forget her book. But her silly girl actions needed to stop. She needed to act like a woman, a Neville, a descendant of Plantagenets.
Approaching the king's throne room, all members of the Neville family walked together in a display of strength and power. Warwick escorted his daughter while his sons followed eldest to youngest. Many courtiers made a path for them as they passed by, in awe of their unity and their forwardness in addressing the king on the matter of More's imprisonment.
Once they made their way to the entrance of the room, a page announced their presence and they walked toward the platform where the king sat on his throne. All courtiers were there, Suffolk and the Boleyns closest to the throne. All of the Nevilles bowed in respect, though Grace had to force herself to perform the action. Her eyes glared hard at the wooden floors as if she wished they would open up and swallow her to prevent her from being there. "Your majesty," Warwick spoke, awaiting the king's next move.
The king said nothing for a few seconds, first analyzing the Neville men. They were young and strong, all viable contenders to his throne. He was envious of Warwick for he had sons, many sons, while the king had a bastard daughter and an infant princess. It was a cruel fate he thought for one of his distant relatives to have everything he wanted, and yet, God did not give him the destiny of becoming king nor did he seek to be in the public eye. His gaze then fell on Grace, the favorite of More as he had deemed from his findings yesterday. Grace could feel the king's eyes on her, but she didn't move or fidget. She held her curtsy perfectly, waiting for the king to motion for all of them to stand and for him to address her father.
As the king looked down on Grace, he remembered the frightened expression she held in her eyes, those hauntingly beautiful green eyes which stared at him with fear as well as a hint of loathing. Why would she not dislike him though? Her uncle was in the tower for God's sake and here she was begging with her family for him to spare More's life. He took in her posture, how stiff and unrelaxed it was. He could tell how hard she was concentrating on the floor patterns. He had done that a many of times when Anne and he argued, and he wished to be gone from that place. She was different from many of the court ladies. She didn't have the typical blond hair, but dark brown like Anne. Some of his courtiers would classify her as exotic because of her darker looks. She was wearing a different dress then what he had seen her in earlier that week. This one was a dark grey, practically black in color. The neckline came to just above her breasts and was decorated with golden pieces. On the bodice of the dress a simple flower had been sewn into the fabric. The underskirt of the dress was black and also decorated with golden stitch-work. Instead of wearing a French hood, a golden headband had been placed on her hair and golden earrings were hanging from her ears. The dress was not extravagant, but simple in taste, much like the one she wore the other day. She was not trying to impress the court at all. She was only there to plead for her uncle's life.
The king made a motion for all of the Nevilles to stand but shocked everyone when he conversed with Grace first. "Lady Neville," the king spoke, "This is your first time at court, yes? How do you like it so far?"
Grace looked to her father for guidance and he nodded to her, giving her permission to answer the king. She was hesitant in her answer and she did not make eye contact when she answered the king's question. "It is hard to give your majesty a complete answer since I have only seen the gardens and the confines of my chambers. I have not fully experienced your majesty's court, but I am sure the longer I am here, the more clear of an answer I will be able to give to your majesty."
"Well said," the king responds, now turning to Warwick and taking the attention off of Grace. She lets out a sigh of relief. "Warwick, I have listened to your petition, but I am under the pretense that Sir Thomas will not answer any of my advisors nor will he speak to Cromwell about my policies. I cannot release him until he accepts the oath and confirms me to be the head of the Church of England. If he defies me, then that will influence my more rebellious subjects to also refuse the oath and deny my supremacy."
"I understand what your majesty has said, but if you will let him speak to you…." Warwick is interrupted by the king as he tries to persuade the king.
Henry rises from his throne, his voice deeper and threatening as he speaks. Warwick has angered the king as Henry practically yells, "I will not speak to him until he takes the oath!" All shrink back from the king, all witnesses to the famous Tudor temper. Grace flinches, appalled at the behavior of the king. It seemed fear was the only tactic that was successful in gaining power over his courtiers.
Warwick apologizes immediately, trying to make up for his harmless actions. "Forgive me if I speak out of turn your majesty. I meant no disrespect." His tone is sincere and as Henry looks at him, he only sees a man speaking genuinely from his heart. He does not seek to gain anything, but More's survival. However, it irritates Henry that a man this high in status is being seen by his courtiers as a man doing the just thing while the king is ridiculed for his actions.
"Of course not Warwick. You of all people know not to disrespect me. But, do you know how More disrespects me? How he still does so while he sits in that damned tower praying and reading his books?" Henry steps off the platform and steps directly in front of Warwick, practically in the man's face as he speaks in a dark tone.
"His conscience," Grace mutters without even realizing it. All eyes turn to her and she blushes at being heard. Many may think it was her speaking out of turn, but Warwick knew his daughter was just speaking her mind out loud, a flaw she needed to learn to control. He grimaces when he hears her words loud and clear. Now the king's anger would be directed at her.
"And what do you know of his conscience, Lady Neville?" the king questions as he steps toward Grace. Grace gulps inaudibly, nervous at being so close to such a dangerous and powerful man who was currently enraged. "I…I…" she stutters for just a moment but regains her confidence. "I know he's ruled by it. I know his conscience dictates his actions and are influenced by our lord. But, your majesty you must understand that my uncle is loyal to you above all else. I would say that he loves your majesty more than God, but that is a sin for our savior should come first in our hearts." She halts her words, daring to look up at the king's expression. He looks taken by surprise at such an answer and gives Grace the push to finish. She lowers herself to her knees in a subservient manner and pleads," I beseech you your majesty. Please speak to my uncle. Please spare his life and if you must take a life, take mine for I am insignificant compared to my uncle."
Many gasps are heard in the throne room, the loudest one from Lord Wiltshire, Anne's father. "Grace," Warwick hisses in warning at his daughter, yanking her to her feet and thrusting her towards her eldest brother who takes hold of her tightly. Grace stares at her feet in embarrassment, knowing her father would reprimand her for her irrationality later. "Your majesty, please forgive my daughter's outburst. She is overcome with emotion at her uncle's imprisonment." Grace stares at her father's back, furious that he would compare her to one those silly ninny girls at court that cry at the littlest thing. The king notices her demeanor immediately and lets out a slight chuckle. The court is confused for a moment and all let out laughs as well to go along with the king.
"There is nothing to forgive Lord Warwick. You may go now. I will consider what you have said." Warwick nods to the king and bows as the other members of his family do. He grabs Grace from Richard's arm and they all back away as no one is allowed to turn their backs on the king. They turn and proceed, to their rooms, Grace now awaiting a verbal lashing form her father. Meanwhile, the king reclines back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. The Boleyn's notice immediately, worried. The king has the same expression on his face when he met Anne and Boleyn does not like it at all.
5 May 1534
For the past five days, all anyone could talk about was Grace Neville and her family's appearance at court. All were amazed at the way a woman spoke to the king and could get away with it with no consequences. In fact, because the king had laughed for some unknown reason, the court saw her presence as interesting in the least. She sure knew how to make an entrance at court, that was for sure.
Grace was currently sitting in her chambers at court doing her needlework, having only left the rooms to take walks in the garden. However, she was always accompanied by one of her brothers. She did not want to have another encounter with the king. Her brothers were enjoying the pastimes of court while her father preferred to remain in the rooms with her. A knock was heard on the door, Warwick saying a simple, "Enter."
Grace looked up from her work to see Suffolk entering and when she looked to her father, his face mirrored her expression of surprise. "My lord, I was not expecting you," Warwick said, rising from his seat.
"Nor did I expect to be here, your Grace," spoke Suffolk as he clasped hands with Warwick. "Lady Grace," Suffolk says, bowing to Grace.
"My lord," Grace responds, returning the formalities by rising from her chair and curtsying. She placed her needlework on the table next to her and clasped her hands in front of her, awaiting her father's orders.
"Tell me Suffolk, why have you come here?" Warwick questions.
"Well my lord, I have a package for your daughter from the king." Warwick raised his eyes at that, looking to Grace for a reaction. Her eyes turned dark and her face had a look of aversion, that is until Suffolk revealed her book. Grace squealed in surprise, taking the book from Suffolk hands quite unladylike and thanking him. Her father sent her a look, reminding her of her manners and her happy display returned to that of a reserved manner with a hint of joy in her eyes.
"Please tell his majesty that I thank him for returning my book. It is my greatest treasure." Suffolk smiled at her words, enjoying the young woman's display of happiness at having a mere book returned to her.
"Yes, please give his majesty my thanks," Warwick speaks, expecting Suffolk to now leave and report back to the king. However, Suffolk made no move to leave and instead pulled a letter and a parcel from inside his coat.
"His majesty also asks me to present you with these, my lady," Suffolk mutters, holding them out for Grace to take. Grace makes no move to take them and instead takes a step back.
"Grace," Warwick says, expecting his daughter to take them. He motions towards the presents of the king, but Grace still makes no move to take them.
Instead Grace replies, "Tell his majesty that I am thankful for these gifts, but I do not deserve nor want them nor his majesty's affections that most would agree come with such things."
"Grace!" Warwick scolds, his voice filled with disbelief at his daughter's behavior.
"No, I will not accept them," Grace says defiantly.
"At least take his letter," Warwick retorts, frustrated with his daughter as Suffolk would tell the king all he had seen.
"Fine," Grace replies, taking the letter from Suffolk's hand and angrily throwing it into the roaring fire behind her. "You can tell his majesty that his letter has been permanently burned into my mind for now I have just seen it consumed by flames, something I enjoyed seeing. And now, the memory of it will delight me for the rest of my time at court." Grace sends a mocking smile at her father, curtsies to Suffolk with a "my lord," and then walks into her own personal room, slamming the door behind her.
Warwick cringes at the sound of the slamming door, now turning to Suffolk. "I suggest you leave my daughter's erratic behavior out of the conversation and not mention that she burned his letter. It would be better not to push at the king's temper, agreed?" Suffolk nods, quite amused by Grace's behavior. She would not be conquered by a king without a fight, that much was certain. As he left Warwick's chambers, bowing to the duke in respect, he knew the king would become frustrated and ultimately give up his quest to win the woman's affections, or would he?
Comments?
