A Jewel in Henry's Crown

Chapter Forty-Five: Time of Which We Have No Knowledge

Author's Note: I created a fan page on Facebook. Just look up A Jewel in Henry's Crown (a Fanfiction) and LIKE! =) Also, banners/posters/fan pix of any type are welcomed, since I haven't made any—and then I can upload them on the Facebook page—and that is if you want to make some. You all are wonderful, my lovely reviewers! Keep on reviewing! **P.S. name of this chapter was inspired by the soundtrack from season 4 =) In case you're wondering, because I happened to be listening to the score when I was writing this!

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Thomas looked up, blinking in surprise as two of the king's ushers came up with torches. The Duke of Suffolk appeared behind them and dug around for the cell key. Thomas glowered at him and threw a day old apple at the duke.

"This would never have happened if it weren't for that bitch of yours." Thomas swore. When Charles came into the cell, he shoved Thomas against the cold stone walls and sent him a death glare.

"Charlotte shows pity for you and yet you have lost your conscious and your mind in only a matter of days. The death of your wife made you mad. Let me tell you something of her, my lord," Charles hissed, "She was not an innocent! Charlotte told me things she would have never told you or His Majesty so I suggest you regain your composure and gather your things. You will be returning to Norfolk as His Majesty sees fit for you to do so."

"What things as she told you? That my wife was a whore?" Thomas laughed, drily. "It was George Boleyn who was the whore, I say…and my sister was for sleeping with the King before she married you. You have gone and married the King's Whore."

Charles angrily shoved Thomas up again, slamming his back into the wall. Thomas chuckled and a smile grew.

"Enough." Charles demanded. "How dare you talk of your own sister this way?"

"Oh no, Your Grace, she is—as of this day—no longer my sister. We may have the same blood, the same mother, and the same father; but I will never call her my darling sister ever again." Thomas murmured. "See to it that she knows that, won't you?"

"You would go so far as to break her heart?"

"I see you as nothing but a nuisance, Your Grace—fogging up her innocent child-like mind. I suggest you release me unless if you want something to happen to your whore."

Reluctantly, Charles put Thomas down and stormed out of the cell—leaving the king's ushers and two guards to escort the prisoner out. He made his way down back to Whitehall in his carriage and was greeted by the king. Henry smiled at Charles but it faded when he saw the irritated look.

"What news of the Lord Norfolk?"

"Ill tempered to say the least, Your Majesty," Charles replied. "I think he has gone mad in that prison cell of his. He calls Charlotte a whore…blames her for his tribulations."

She was a whore once, Henry thought,bitterly. She was my whore before she married you. Damn you, Charles for being so blind.

"He despises her for being honest to me and loyal? That should almost be considered treason, Your Grace." Henry jested, with a chuckle. Charles smiled and they walked inside. Henry's envy grew inside him and the more envious he grew, the more he wanted to strangle Charles for being fortunate to have found a wife more loyal to him than any of the previous wives the he had had. Henry realized that from the start—Charlotte had always wanted Charles and the first few times in court, she withstood her bitterness towards the king because of Charles. He had had the chance to court her, perhaps marry her and make her his queen. Charlotte had denied Henry that when she laid her eyes on Charles—bastard…damn you, Henry thought.

What it would have been if Charlotte and her children were his? What would it be if Harry Brandon would have become Henry the Ninth? Agitated, he sat down and clenched his fists together as an usher poured him a goblet of wine and Charles. He thought back on his wives…thinking about Katherine of Aragon. She had been too loyal to him and it bothered him. Katherine had been much older than him and yet she found herself in love with her king. Anne—that witch—tore his country apart, the love of his people was torn when he became Head of the Church of England. Anne was detested by many…some whispered to His Majesty that she had assassinated the queen reagent on her own. When he had been in love with that whore, he would not have listened to it.

And Jane, his darling Jane Seymour should have been with him to this day. He despised the fact that she had died. Even Charlotte admired Jane and appreciated all that the queen did for her.

"Your Majesty?" Charles exclaimed, snapping the king out of his reverie. "Are you well?"

"Just nostalgia," Henry responded, quietly. "So many years have gone by and so many changes."

Charles nodded, smiling.

"I remember when Her Grace first came to court just as a child…now she is a woman grown."

"You still love her." Charles responded, seeing the look in Henry's eyes.

"Only one of my many mistresses whom I still do love, yes," Henry agreed. Charles felt bitterness creeping up on him. "Your Grace, she is your wife and I would not destroy that—no matter how tempting it may seem. She deserves a man like you. You have been with her since you first met her."

A sense of relief rushed through Charles afterwards.

"She still thinks highly of you, Your Majesty. She respects you and has shown you fealty the moment she arrived. Unlike her brother,"

"Yes, the Lord Norfolk is very much like their father. Arrogant and lacks protocol," Henry winced in pain as he moved. His ulcer had gotten much worse in the past few weeks. He had tried his best to maintain an active routine of sport and fun, but it burned too much. The searing pain would shoot up his thigh and down to his ankle. Henry clenched his teeth and demanded his usher to pour him another chalice of wine.

"The Earl of Hertford has gone to visit John Neville, the Baron Latymer. He is gravely ill and as news has gone about, he should not live much longer."

"Pity to lose such a dear friend," Henry replied, softly. "What of him?"

"He has had his wife, Katherine Parr, caring for him as he lies in his deathbed. She should be a widow soon, Your Majesty."

Henry thought silently for several moments. He smiled at Charles and nodded.

"Have the Earl of Hertford call upon her and have her visit me. I should like to be acquainted with Katherine."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Leave me, I need rest." Henry sighed.

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