February 18 1536
Once seeing Anne on the Queen's throne, clearly pregnant had filled Mary with such hateful fury. Furious that her stepmother would flaunt her stolen status, hatred that this woman had not only successfully taken her mother's crown, bewitching her father and the pope to do so but she dared to think that her child, her bastard would be a better heir than Mary herself.
It was truly frightening how angry she had been back then.
Now she looked at her stepmother carrying, not her rival, but her sibling; a sibling who would only know her through Hal, Georgie, Annette, Edward and perhaps even Elizabeth.
She would be leaving by the end of August after a proxy marriage was held in England. This would be the last birthday she would have in her homeland because by next February she would be the Queen of Sweden.
And then would she be the one sitting in the Queen's throne, pregnant with Gustav's spare or would she suffer like her mother had, experiencing miscarriage after miscarriage until her husband grew tired of her and turned his fancy elsewhere?
God, when had she turned so morose? Today was her birthday. She should be celebrating, not lamenting the past and painting a dark picture of her future. By all accounts King Gustav was a noble and kind man. He had agreed fairly quickly to Mary being able to practice her religion in private (with the understanding that she would have to partake in the Lutheran rites publicly with the Swedish court). He had also sent her a letter, expressing his condolences for her mother's death and telling her to take heart for while her mother is now sitting at God's table, she would always be with Mary in spirit.
He also assured her that he and his son were eagerly awaiting her arrival and that he was certain that Eric would be a good and dutiful stepson as she would be to that poor motherless boy.
It gave Mary hope that her life in Sweden would not be so bad and just maybe one day, she would be the pregnant queen, happily waiting for the day she would be able to hold her child for the first time.
"Mary, come here, sweetheart," her father called for her, beckoning her over to the dais. He beamed at his daughter as she made her over to him and Anne. "I wanted to get a better look at you, my pearl, I still cannot believe how you have grown into beautiful young lady. It seems like it was only yesterday I could hold you in my arms. I want you to know how very proud I am of you."
Tears filed Mary's eyes at her father's tender words. With her mother gone, her father was all she had left and although his words once would have made her think of happier days when she was a child, there was no Anne Boleyn, her mother had still been queen and she was her father's only heir. Now all she could think was how glad she was that she would have these last few months to spend time with him.
"Thank you, Father, your words mean the world to me," Mary assured him. She was going to add that she would strive to be a queen like her mother but she was certain that no matter how much he loved her, her father would still not react well to her labeling her mother as queen. For all of his kindness towards her, King Henry still insisted that their once loving marriage was not a true one, unwilling to allow anyone to even think of Katherine of Aragon as anything but his late brother's widow.
"Come sit down, my pearl," Henry ordered gesturing to the throne next to Anne, usually used whenever Henry wanted Georgie to have his own seat (although he would often allow one of his other young children sit there as well as he and Anne couldn't fit them all on their laps). When Mary did so, he learned over to her. "I think I see the Swedish Ambassador, looking quite eager to present something to you. Shall I put the man out of his misery?"
Mary glanced over to where her father indicated and realized that the Swedish Ambassador had been trying to discreetly catch her attention for the past thirty minutes but because Mary had been so caught up in her thoughts, she had not paid the man she hadn't recognized any attention.
"Of course," Mary replied, feeling a bit embarrassed that she had been ignoring the envoy of her future husband's realm.
King Henry beckoned the man over. "Your Excellency, welcome back to court. I hope you are enjoying your time in England," he greeted him with a polite nod of his head after the man had bowed three times.
"Your Majesty, I must say that it is an honor and a privilege to be here again at your magnificent court," the ambassador gushed, his Swedish accent most prominent.
"You have already met my beautiful wife, Anne, but I don't think you have been formally introduced you to my daughter yet," Henry continued, taking Mary's hand in his. "Ambassador Axel Nilsson, I am most happy to present my eldest daughter, Princess Mary Tudor."
"I am glad to have met you, Your Excellency, I hope you are well," Mary said formally, extending her hand for the ambassador to kiss.
"I am most well, Your Highness," the ambassador replied as he kissed her hand before stepping back. "I hope you doing well yourself on this blessed day." When Mary assured him he was, he changed to subject to his master. "King Gustav not only sends his well wishes but he also would like for me to present you a gift he had designed especially for you."
Once he received permission, the ambassador signaled for his servant to present Mary an opened jewelry box with a golden heart-shaped locket inside. Inside the locket was a miniature portrait of King Gustav himself. Mary took the locket so she could study King Gustav closer: he was a handsome man with a bushy beard.
"Tell him I received the gift gladly and that when we meet for the first time, I shall be wearing this proudly," Mary declared, hoping that no one would ask her to wear it straight away. While she did like her gift, she would prefer to wear her mother's cross until she arrived in Sweden.
March 9 1536
"Papa's home!" Marian announced as if Jane could not see that for herself. However Jane had no intention of scolding her sister as they ran into the arms of their beloved father.
"Oh my precious doves, at last we have been reunited," George declared dramatically. "I have missed you greatly."
"We have missed you too. It's been so boring here without you," Jane complained. "I think even Johnny is bored and he's only a baby."
"And how is my boy?" George asked, directing his question to his children's governess.
John Boleyn was born only three months ago and he was named for his maternal grandfather and paternal great-uncle (something George had pointed out when his father had complained about the name).
"A delightful child. As robust as his sisters," the woman informed him with a smile.
As if on cue, Anna came into the parlor with their son in her arms. She beamed at him as she brought the Viscount of Rochford to him. George gave his daughters a kiss each before letting them go and standing up to greet his wife and son.
"I thought John might want to say hello to his Papa as well," Anna explained as she carefully laid the wiggling baby into his father's outstretched arms.
"My boy," George murmured, using his finger to stroke his son's face. "Have your sisters been looking after you?"
"We have, Papa," Janey spoke up. "While Mama was still being churched, Marian and I rarely left the nursery."
George glanced up from his son and noted that Mistress Baker's expression was one of annoyance and he could gather that Janey was not exaggerating when she said they rarely left the nursery, perhaps even ignoring their governess' instructions. While the parent in him wanted to scold his daughters for being disobedient, he couldn't help but think that Anne would have ignored their governess for to watch over him and that just made him love his daughters even more.
"After you left, they made sure to spend time with me until I was churched," Anna said, giving the two girls a fond smile. "John and I are very lucky to have them."
"I would expect no less from my doves," George complimented before handing John to Mistress Baker. "I want to hear about everything you two have been up to but first I must talk to your mother in private."
"Is about something bad?" Marian asked worriedly.
"No, my darling, it is about something nice," George assured her, ruffling her hair. When he and Anna went to the study, he made sure to close the door to prevent any mischievous little eavesdropper from listening in. "How are you, sweetheart? I'm sorry I had to leave so quickly."
While Thomas Boleyn was thrilled at finally getting a healthy grandson to carry on his surname, he clearly felt that George needed to return to court as soon as possible to carry out his duties as a member of the King's privy council. He summoned him back to court two days after John's christening.
"It's all right, I know how your father can be," Anna assured him. "And to answer your question, I am very well."
"Good. I kept fearing that…" George trailed off, swallowing thickly. Even though the threat of Anna getting child bed fever had passed, he didn't even feel comfortable referencing it "The King has decided that it is high time his nephew gets engaged and of course Father has pointed out that his granddaughters are around his age."
"Granddaughters? Is he including Cathy in this?" Anna asked with a raised eyebrow. She of course knew that Princess Annette wouldn't be included in that statement for obvious reasons but she wondered if proud Thomas Boleyn would be willing to give allow his granddaughter from his least favorite child to marry the son of duke.
"Although Cathy is closer in age, I believe my father just meant Janey and Marian. However, being the man he is, he has already started looking into potential spouses for all of his grandchildren," George told her with a laugh.
With Cromwell being made a baron, Thomas had thought Gregory would make a good perspective husband for Cathy. George had no doubt this was simply a tactic to ensure that Cromwell remained loyal to the Boleyns. Despite her father being a mere knight, his father still viewed Catherine as much to valuable to be married off to a baseborn baron's son otherwise. Cathy's brother, the Baron of Hunsdon, was soon to be betrothed to Lady Lucy Somerset, the eldest daughter of the Earl of Worcester.
"So our daughter will be a duchess and what does the Duke of Wiltshire has in store for the other one?" Anna asked curiously. Instead of answering George just beamed at her. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"
"Nothing, you just said our daughter," George said with a fond smile.
"Well I've come to see both Janey and Marian as my daughters even if I did not give birth to them myself," Anna said softly. "Even if they never called me Mama, I would still love them as if they were my flesh and blood."
"Thank you. It's nice to know that while I'm away I can trust that my daughters are loved and nurtured by a woman with such a big heart," George complimented her. "To answer your question: the Marquess of Exeter has suggested his only son and I think Father is most agreeable. Nothing has been set in stone as of yet; mostly because the Duke of Suffolk has yet to agree but if it goes well we shall have a double wedding once the girls are of age." George could see by the look on Anna's face that she was calculating when the girls would be of marriable age and therefore ready to leave home. He took her hand in his and gently squeezed it. "Don't worry. We still have time with them."
March 22 1536
Now that the betrothal between King Gustav and Princess Mary was finalized, it had been announced to the people of England. Although they would be sad to see her go, the English subjects were happy at this news. Except for the Catholics who viewed Mary be sent away from England to marry a Lutheran King as just another tactic of heretics who wanted the true faith to be eradicated.
"Prince George's education is being completely controlled by heretics and I have no doubt that Prince Edward's education will be the same," Henry Pole, Baron of Montagu began.
"Do not call those bastards by their stolen titles. King Henry has only one legitimate child and it's not the spawn of that whore," the Marquess of Dorset snarled.
"The Pope disagrees with you, my lady," Henry pointed out. Although he hated to admit it, even if the Pope declared the children of Anne Boleyn illegitimate, the fact that King Henry had male heirs would make the English people more willing to accept them over Mary.
According to Reginald, Pope Paul was reluctant to repudiate his predecessor's previous verdict for fear of looking just as vindictive but if he were to threaten to excommunicate King Henry, perhaps that would be enough to snap the red-haired monarch out of the trance he was currently under.
"Perhaps if he knew that Anne Boleyn still married to my husband, he would acknowledge that her bastards are illegitimate," the Countess of Northumberland suggested.
After all, it was well known that Henry Percy and Anne Boleyn had wanted to be married but Henry was forced to marry her instead. Over the years Mary had become convinced that her husband and Anne had been married secretly and she was living in sin, so she had tried to obtain an annulment under those grounds only to be refused and threatened by Cromwell.
"You already tried that and the King refused to believe you. He and my brother are under that bitch's thrall. My brother was a good man who could have been a dutiful Earl if it was not for the Boleyn witch," Thomas Percy remarked.
The Baron of Montagu held back a derisive snort. Everyone knew that the Earl of Northumberland's relationship was strained with his family to the point where he had put in his will that his lands and titles were to be given to the Crown instead of his younger brother.
Although there was no doubt that he was willing to fight against the heretics, Henry Pole was certain that most of his anger towards Anne Boleyn was because of her indirect role in turning Henry Percy against his father and brother.
"She's not the only one who is damaging England," Henry Grey pointed out. "Because of men like Thomas Cromwell, at least fifty monasteries are due to close within the next year with their occupants being kicked out and their land being sold off."
"We cannot allow the Princess Mary to marry that Lutheran King of Sweden, we must protect her," Margaret Pole stated, bringing everyone back to the topic at hand. Queen Katherine would be rolling over in her grave if she knew what was to happen to her beloved daughter.
"Perhaps we can. After all if Princess Mary were to marry one of her cousins, we could use their combined royal blood to take the throne from King Henry and his children," Frances suggested, not caring the man she was talking about was her uncle and his children were her cousins just as much as Mary was.
"Madam, what you are suggesting is treason," Margaret remarked, her eyes wide. Not to mention, it would take a miracle to convince Mary to turn against her father especially when she had confessed to her governess some years ago that she would not allow another Cousin War to happen in her name.
"Not if we win," Frances replied, a smirk on her lips. No one could disagree with that statement.
As Anne would be going into confinement in the early weeks of April, she had thought it would be best to talk to Cromwell now instead of later. She was growing concerned about the Dissolution of the Monasteries and how many religious houses were due to being closed. It seemed to her unlikely that they all were corrupt and she was beginning to wonder if this was more about filling the royal treasury and Cromwell's own coffers.
"Our religious reform was never about financial gain," Anne reminded the councilor. She decided not to go as far as to accuse him of making up bad reports, although she strongly suspected that there was one or two fabrication or exaggeration. "The people of England rely on these religious houses and such a large number of closers will sow seeds of discontent."
"Your Majesty, I can assure you that I am only acting in the best interests of the King," Cromwell assured her. "After all he wants your son to ascend the throne of a stable country free of corruption." And a full treasury of course.
"While I do not deny that I wish to eradicate the corruption of the Catholic Church, I still think there could be better uses for the religious houses that are closed down. Perhaps more poorhouses or schools can be built," Anne suggested.
"Your Majesty, may I speak freely?" Cromwell asked in a gentle voice. He did not make the mistake of talking down to her as he was far too familiar with her temper to treat her as though she was just an empty-headed chit.
"Of course."
"We could convert every priory and abbey into a poorhouse but those who are still deeply rooted in Catholicism will still protest them being closed," Cromwell explained, guessing she had heard of the would-be rebellion over in Ireland that risen up in protest against the changes the English Church was making. He had no doubt she was concerned it would happen as well. "The only way to counter it is to get rid of the very symbols of the Catholic corruption, allowing the English people to think for themselves instead of being guided by so-called pious men of God."
"You spoke freely and now I shall," Anne said as if Cromwell could stop her from speaking her mind. "While it is true that there are some strong-minded men not willing to give up their faith, they are more likely to rebel if they think their religion is under attack. England has been at peace for the past ten years because we have slowly been introducing our reforms, allowing the King's subject to get used to it but if we act too quickly, it could lead to civil unrest if not war."
"Your Majesty, I promise you that I have everything well at hand," Cromwell told her firmly, hoping she would leave it well enough alone.
She was a clever woman and Cromwell enjoyed working with her but even if he shared her fears, the King did not and would want Cromwell to continue closing down the religious houses, filling the royal treasury to the brim.
"I certainly hope so, because if not, it will be your head on a pike," Anne said coldly, not happy with his deflection.
It was not a threat but a statement; both of them knew that. For the minute things start going badly, King Henry would want a scapegoat.
With that last remark, Queen Anne spun on her heels and walked away her head held high.
Although he was aware that she was not wrong, Cromwell would continue his work with closing down the religious houses. The old ways were already dying out and the councilor was simply speeding up the process.
He was certain the Queen was worrying needlessly and perhaps it was simply the pregnancy causing her to be short-tempered. Once she had her child, she would see things more clearly and understand there was nothing to worry about.
May 19 1536
Anne woke up in the early hours of the morning, feeling strangely cold. Before she could decide whether or not she should wake up her ladies and request they go down to the kitchen and get her some fresh fruit or simply try to fall back asleep, her face convulsed as a contraction ripped through her body.
It seemed that after being two weeks late, her child had decided it was time to come out, fashionably late of course.
"Ladies, I bid you to rise quickly, it seems that we shall have a new addition to the royal nursery before this day is out," Anne called, rousing the two women by her bed.
Nan Corbin threw a robe on herself before fleeing the bedchambers to fetch the midwife and call the other ladies of Anne's household to their mistress' aid. Margery Horsman immediately went to Anne's side, making sure that other than being in labor, there was nothing wrong with the Queen.
"Already this child has dreadful manners, waking us up at such an early hour," Anne quipped, as she squeezed Margery's hand.
But for all the "bad manners" the baby had, the labor was thankfully a short one with the child being born just as the sky was turning from the pink of dawn to the blue of day.
"Your Majesty has given birth to a healthy boy," the midwife announced as she placed the boy into Anne's arms.
"My little Duke of Bedford," Anne declared, kissing the top of her son's head. "Welcome to the world little one." Although she would have loved to have another daughter, Anne couldn't help but be somewhat relived that she had another son. Not because she felt as her father and uncle did that three sons were better than two but because she knew that princesses were expected to marry foreign kings or princes, leaving their homeland never to return. But princes could stay with their mothers and Anne was grateful for that.
It had been a quarter before five when Henry was woken up and told that his wife was in labor. He had gotten up and dressed immediately, ordering two pages to make haste to Eltham Palace and to Leeds Castle to summon the royal children to court.
When he learned that he now had a fourth son, Henry was ecstatic, allowing Cromwell and Wiltshire to make sure the necessary arrangements for the celebration were made before rushing into Anne's rooms to greet her and their son.
"I must admit, that this was a wonderful way to wake up, learning I am to be a father again," Henry remarked, stroking the infant's head before kissing Anne's temple.
"He certainly knows how to make an entrance, keeping us guessing for weeks before he finally arrived when everyone was caught off guard," Anne jested, her eyes shinning with love for their new son.
"He is a most mischievous boy," Henry agreed with a hearty laugh.
"Just like his father before him," Anne remarked before glancing down at the swaddled infant who seemed to be staring her curiously.
"I have decided we should name him Owen so he can be a reminder to everyone of just how far us Tudors have come," Henry decreed. Had Owen Tudor not married the Dowager Queen of England, the Tudor dynasty would never have gotten started. Besides as George's name represented the Boleyns and Edward's name represented the Yorks it was only fair that his third son would represent his Tudor relatives. "Of course if you would prefer Jasper, that is a good name too."
"Owen Tudor Duke of Bedford does have a nice ring to it," Anne decided.
Henry smiled as he realized that now he had three sons of Tudor just like there had been three sons of York. However unlike the Duke of Clarence and the Duke of Gloucester, he was certain that his boys would stick together through thick and thin.
May 30 1536
A week ago, he was fine. A week ago, he had gone to his youngest brother's christening. His father had made him one of the newest prince's godparents (with his wife, his oldest half-sister and the King of Sweden being the other three godparents).
But when the Duke of Richmond and Somerset had returned home, he began to feel ill. He began to cough frequently, sometimes he even coughed up blood. He was now stuck in bed with a high fever.
His father had sent his royal physician to take care of him.
"You have consumption, Your Grace," Doctor Butts informed him, his expression grave. While some people survived this disease, Henry Fitzroy's constitution had already been weakened by the sweat and it was unlikely he could survive two deadly diseases. However, Dr. Butts would do everything he could to help the young duke as his master was counting on him.
Hal could see by the expression on the physician's face that his condition was terminal and he could not help but feel a shudder of fear at knowing that his death would be inevitable.
The worst part was he felt he was letting his father and brother down by dying. Hadn't he promised them he would be George's advisor, guiding him throughout his kingship? His mother had been so certain he would make a great diplomat, succeeding in life by his own merits and not just because he was the son of a king. And when King Henry died, Hal would be George's diligent councilor and fiercest general.
Although Hal would not call himself ambitious, or at least not as ambitious as his father-in-law, he was still hoping he could make a name for himself beyond simply being the king's bastard.
But life was cruel and that glorious future he envisioned would never be. And Henry Fitzroy would soon just be footnote in the history books, known only by the relationship he had with his father and siblings.
June 11 1536
Bad things often came in threes.
Hal Fitzroy had died yesterday, devastating his father and siblings. Now the French ambassador had requested an audience, having dire news to tell them. And with King Henry refusing to see any visitors, Anne had to receive him instead.
"Your Majesty with a heavy heart, I must pass on the news that yesterday the Dauphin Francis died," the ambassador explained. While his expression was stoic, Anne could see redness of his eyes. The Dauphin's death was not just devastating to the French King but his subjects as well.
"How?" Anne asked, shocked that a seemingly healthy prince would just die like that. Had the French been keeping information that their heir was deathly ill? When the ambassador stiffened, Anne suddenly felt terrible for being insensitive. "Forgive me, Your Excellency, you have caught me unaware. I hope you will extend my condolences to King Francis."
The audience with the French Ambassador was hastily concluded after that. After he was gone, Anne all but collapsed in her chair, putting her head in her hands.
Dauphin Francis was dead, leaving her Annette without a future husband and with the only French connection to England being through the French Princess-Oh God, why was she thinking about politics right now? When had she become her father?
King Francis' son was dead just her stepson had died. Both boys had died on the same day.
Bad things often happened in threes. Anne could not help but wonder what misfortune would happen next.
July 6 1536
Annette had been inconsolable when she learned the news of Dauphin Francis dying as it just added to the pain of Hal Fitzroy's death. She had hardly left her sister's side, begging Mary to come back to Eltham with the royal children once their father decided they should return there.
Although King Henry had officially stopped mourning his son's death, he seemed reluctant to let his other children out of his sight especially when Mary would soon be off to Sweden.
"Margot sent a letter to Georgie saying there has been a rumor in the French court that King Francis will annul Dauphin Fr—Henri's marriage to Dauphine Catherine and betroth him to me instead. Some courtiers are saying I will be another Anne Boleyn," Annette recalled, frowning as she was certain that was not a compliment. "It's not a bad thing if I become like my mother, is it?"
"Of course not," Mary assured her and it was a testament to how far she had come with her stepmother that she was not lying through her teeth when she said that. After all for all her problems with Anne, she could not deny that the lady was intelligent and witty, two fine traits Annette should strive for.
Furthermore, it was absolutely absurd to be comparing the two situations at all, besides the first names of the people involved, there were no other similarities.
"Mary, do you have to go to Sweden. Can't Papa find you a husband in England?" Annette asked softly, looking up entreatingly at Mary as if her sister had any say in the matter. (Well her father would never force her to marry King Gustav but saying no especially now was not something Mary could do).
"Oh, dear heart, I wish I could stay but Gustav and his son are already expecting me and I can't break the promise I made to them," Mary answered, taking her hand in hers, squeezing it.
"But I've already lost Hal and I don't know what's going to happen to me now. I need you Mary," Annette whispered, fresh tears dripping down her cheeks. She then began sobbing as she clung to her sister.
While she couldn't claim to be as friendly with Francis as Georgie was with Marguerite, the loss of him had still hit her hard as for the past eight years of her life, she had known she would be the French Queen and with Francis dead, her future was uncertain. As sad as she was with Hal's death, she was also terrified of the uncertainty of what was to come.
Mary wrapped her arms around her little sister, singing her mother's lullaby until Annette calmed down. Once she did so, Mary put her fingers under Annette's chin, lifting it up so she could look at her in the eyes.
"It's going to be okay, Annie, I promise you that I will write to you every day," Mary proclaimed. "Whenever you need guidance just write to me and I'll write back. I know it seems scary but I promise you that it will be okay."
"You'll write to me every day," Annette repeated skeptically.
"I cross my heart," she assured her.
"Will you visit me?" Annette asked.
"Of course," Mary replied, hoping Annette wouldn't ask that she visit every day, something that wouldn't be logical even if she had stayed in England.
"Will you sing that song again? It always makes me feel better," Annette implored her.
Mary smiled and began to sing the Spanish lullaby again, thinking with a fond chuckle that by now Annette must have it memorized.
The Queen would not gloat and yet Cromwell felt he would prefer if she did. Her gloating was far better than the anger in King Henry's eyes.
"They dared take up arms against my men and make demands of me," he repeated, his eye twitching in fury at the group of peasants who were going against his will.
Near the end of June, shortly after the closing of Louth Park Abby, the royal commissioners were accosted by a mob in Louth, stopping them from closing down St. James' Church.
In the next fortnight, the uprising had gotten bigger with peasants in nearby towns taking arms and refusing to allow the King's men entrance to their religious houses. And now they had sent a list of demands: the end of the Ten Articles, an end to the dissolution, an end to taxes in peacetime, a purge of heretics in government and the repeal of the Statute of Uses. It seemed that it had gone from simply defending the religious houses to a full scale rebellion.
"Hopefully the Duke of Suffolk's forces will quell the rebellion," Cromwell said, not quite as certain as he felt. There were rumors that the Countess of Salisbury's son, the Earl of Northumberland and Suffolk's own son-in-law were supporting the rebels that were popping up in Lincolnshire. If there was any truth to that matter then even if the uprising in Lincolnshire was stopped, they still would have a rebellion on their hands. "Your Majesty, I think it might be best to put the Poles, the Greys and the Percys under house arrest."
"Why? I'm sure if there was something to worry about, you would have already informed me," Henry snapped sarcastically. Cromwell had assured him there were no bad feelings about the dissolution of the monasteries, something Anne had doubted. He couldn't help but wonder what else Cromwell had been keeping from him.
"I have no evidence, Your Majesty, nothing but a letter from Thomas More informing me that the Marquess of Dorset had invited him to share a meal at his estate, telling him that the Earl of Northumberland's brother and wife were visiting along with the Baron of Montagu. He mentioned that there was something odd about the tone of the letter and upon examining the letter myself, I can attest that while the letter itself was innocent, the way the Marquess of Dorset wrote it, seemed to be as if he was highlighting that guests of his were the Dowager Princess' supporters," Cromwell explained.
He had been surprised when he had received this letter from Thomas More, knowing that they were not friends and their religious beliefs made them enemies.
However, he could guess that the former Lord Chancellor was remembering how he had not reported Chapuys' words, allowing that man to conspire against Queen Anne. This time, Thomas More was covering himself by reporting what could be another deadly conspiracy especially when one of those men was married to King Henry's niece.
"Say on," Henry encouraged, certain Cromwell would not have just ignored Thomas More's warning.
"I have spies in each of their households and while my spies have not uncovered much evidence, they have reported that there have been frequent meetings between them especially lately," Cromwell explained.
"I want you to send men to question them. We won't put anyone under house arrest other than the people listed in More's letter," Henry ordered.
He would end this before it spiraled out of control. But if things did get worse, he would have to make sure his family was protected. He refused to lose anyone else.
"God will protect us," Cromwell declared as if he could read the red-haired monarch's thoughts.
Sir Thomas More was in his study, working on a draft of his second book. As he was banished from court and no one wanted a lawyer who the King was angry with, he decided to start another book like his Utopia.
Suddenly he heard a commotion downstairs and his wife called up to him to come down right away. Hearing his wife sounding so panicked, Thomas made haste down the stairs, fearing he already knew what was waiting for him.
He had heard of the uprising and he knew that eventually the rebels would find the way to his door. After all, everyone knew he was Catholic to the core and one of the only men unafraid to speak up for Queen Katherine even when those who supported her were either dead or too scared to speak out.
Out of the group of seven armed men, Thomas recognized three: Thomas Percy, Henry Grey and Henry Pole. It seemed that he had been right to suspect a conspiracy. He could only hope that Cromwell had heeded his warning.
"My lords, why have you come barging into my home with your weapons out?" Thomas inquired, glancing at his wife, son-in-law and daughter, making sure that they were unharmed.
"Forgive us, Sir Thomas but we require your services," the Baron of Montagu explained politely. "We need you to come with us."
"If you expect me to join you in a plot against the King, I am afraid I will not do so," Thomas declared.
"The King has been bewitched by the Boleyns and Cromwell. Surely you will help us protect the daughter of the true Queen of England so she may succeed her father and return England to the flock of Rome," the Marquess of Dorset entreated him.
Thomas More frowned, angered that they dared act as if they were going to protect Mary instead of use her against her father.
"I do wish for England to return to the Flock of Rome but I will not commit treason to do so," he proclaimed earnestly. "Nothing good will come of what you are planning. Thank of your families, my lords, I beg of you. They will suffer if you are killed as traitors to the crown."
"If you are not with us, Sir Thomas, than you are the traitor," Thomas Percy snarled, his sword pointed to Thomas' neck.
"My lord, please, you are a good and pious man. You know that things are wrong with England. Queen Katherine was a sainted lady and her daughter should be a Queen Regent, not shackled to Lutheran King," Henry Pole spoke again his tone gentle, stepping in front of Thomas Percy so he would put down his sword.
"And who will Princess Mary's husband be? Your brother or perhaps the Marquess of Dorset's brother or are you planning on using the Earl of Lincoln in your plot?" Thomas More asked, wondering if these men took him for a fool. "I'm sorry, my lords, while I disagree with many of the King's decisions, he is my King and his son is legitimate in the eyes of the Pope and God so I will not go against my conscience and plot against them."
"Then you leave us no choice but to take you by force," Henry Grey declared, snapping his fingers so his men would grab Thomas.
"NO!"
William Roper had always been a good son-in-law, almost like a second son to Thomas and despite their differences in religion, the feeling had been mutual.
With a dagger in hand, William attacked one of the men trying to size Thomas. Of course this made Thomas Percy come to the men's aide, fully prepared to run William through with his sword.
Was it suicide to step in front of a sword aimed at his son-in-law's back? Thomas pondered as the sword pierced his stomach. No, I am protecting my son as any noble father would. Which is why I know the rebellion is doomed from the start. King Henry will kill them all to protect his son.
Thomas More crumpled to the floor as his daughter rushed to his side.
"Murderers!" Alice shouted at the men who were now fleeing from the house save for the two William had managed to subdue. "MURDERERS!"
"To think, I could have died a martyr," Thomas rasped, his lungs feeling heavy. "Instead I die a sentimental fool." At least I can die with a clear conscious.