Henry sat in his dark chambers, staring at the roaring fire in front of him. His mind spun from the copious amounts of wine he had consumed. He had practically drowned himself the past few days. He had even vomited this morning. He had never acted so unkingly, but it was necessary. He'd rather be in a haze than deal with the emotions that had consumed him on hearing of his son's fate.
How could this happen again? Why was God so angry with him? He had jumped through hoops to get a young, fertile wife, but it seemed that at every turn he was thwarted. He had seen more dead babies in his life time than he thought a man could take. First with Katherine, then with Anne, now with Jane. Why were all his marriages cursed? He held his head in his hands and was surprised to feel tears coursing down his cheeks.
What was he going to do? Was he destined to plunge England into civil war after his death? Was Elizabeth meant to rule? Was Mary?
No, he couldn't let that happen. Elizabeth would be a fine queen consort for any monarch, the best, but she could never rule England by herself. He knew that other countries survived ruling queens, but England would never be one of them. The strong lords needed a man to guide them-not a frail woman easily swayed by her emotions. His little Bess was the closest thing to an heir that he had right now though. Henry would name anyone else his successor before he let Mary assume the throne. Before he let her pledge his country back to Rome. No, that would not do.
He needed a boy, damn it. He needed a healthy, legitimate boy. He had praised God when he had met Jane. Finally- after pious, barren Katherine and fiery, jealous Anne he had found the perfect wife. Jane was calm, gentle, and knew when to hold her tongue. A perfect, obedient woman. She had become a little boring, but she was still beautiful-a nice ornament for his court. Henry could be proud to present her to other monarchs as his consort. As long as he also had a litter of boys to also present.
How they would laugh at him now. Three wives and not a single son. Henry grit his teeth and took another swig of the sour red wine, letting it dull his senses. He would be the laughing stock of all of Europe. He had annulled one marriage, divorced from another, and now Jane had given him a weak little boy that hadn't been able to survive the week. And Linacre wasn't even sure if she could conceive another child! What was he supposed to do then? If he was shackled to another barren woman? Peasants were gifted with son after son, yet he- the KING- was denied even this simple thing. Why had God forsaken him?
He was sure that Jane wouldn't be as foolish as Katherine. She had seen what had almost happened to Anne as well. She knew that he would be kind if she stepped down from the throne without a fight. He would see what Linacre decreed in a month or two when Jane had recovered. For the sake of his appearance he could forgive one dead child. After all, he had been there for so many of Anne and Katherine's failed pregnancies. And he had witnessed so many courtiers be disappointed after 9 months of anticipation. Jane's pregnancy had gone to term, and if it hadn't been such a hellish birth, perhaps the little prince would have made it.
Yes, he thought. Jane will have one more chance-if she is able to carry again. If he divorced or annulled another marriage so quickly it would make him look heartless. Yet if a second pregnancy ended in heartbreak-or if there were no pregnancy at all- then leaving her would be justified. For his country.