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The Duke of Suffolk was welcomingly returned to court by many. The King was overjoyed when Charles presented the king with Catherine of Aragon's recognition of her daughter's bastardy and relinquish to the throne. Watching as Henry smiled with glee made Charles gut twist in disgust. The new of Catherine of Aragon's death was taken deeply by faithful Catholics who immediately dressed in sorrowful black in mourning. Catherine's body was being cremated at this very moment and her funeral carefully arranged. Fortunately, No one in court yet knew of the son born from Catherine. Charles Brandon hoped to tell the King behind closed doors but he had found it hard to grasp the King on his own for he was always surrounded by courtiers and the damnable Boleyn's. He desperately needed to tell the King of his son but there had never been a good moment to begin the conversation in private.
Brandon walked through the passageways in the direction to the King's luxurious chamber. As he neared the entry way to his royal compartment, soft laughs came from the cracks of the door. The Duke immediately recognized them of Queen Anne. Another laugh erupted and it was of the King's. It proved to Charles how perfectly the Boleyn girl had the King wrapped around her little finger. He hesitated pushing the door open.
"I beg your pardon, your majesty." Charles Brandon said, gazing at the two couples, both toasting in wine and jesting with each other.
"Ah, Charles, what brings you here?" The King inquired. Queen Anne turned her attention to Charles, piercing him with a seductive intent look that greatly infatuated Charles.
"Unfortunate business, your majesty. I wish to speak to you in…" Charles gazed once again at Queen Anne and admitted to himself she was truly a beautiful woman. "… In private"
King Henry laughed outright "The Queen will listen to what comes out of your lurid mouth, your grace"
Charles shifted his feet at the insult but continued "It would be much better if her majesty would not be present…"
At that short sentence, Henry loudly slammed his goblet on the table and growled "Don't presume to lecture me, Brandon. Know your place when you're present in front of your two sovereigns"
Charles Brandon felt slightly betrayed from his long-time friend but didn't show his emotions and remained expressionless.
"I beg for forgiveness, your majesties…" said Brandon, swallowing his pride.
Henry grunted his annoyance evident "Yes, yes I must always forgive you… What is it that you have to say? Be quick, I have no time for follies"
Charles Brandon grimaced at the King's harsh tone and wondered if it was the right moment to tell the King but it was already too late to back out.
"Catherine of Aragon is dead but she didn't die from a heart attack" he said simply, hating how stupidly idiotic he sounded.
King Henry looked bewildered and confused at Charles's words "Are you saying she was poisoned?"
"No, your majesty… she died in maternal death"
The King's face clearly showed his emotions. He was puzzled and lost to what Charles had said. To the King Henry's right, Anne Boleyn took in a sharp breath, looking virtually frightened. Henry's face automatically was contorted in fury.
"Charles… If you're jesting…"
"This is no joke" snapped Charles Brandon, wanting to kick himself for sounding so prudent "Your majesty, the dowager princess has delivered a son"
Henry Tudor stood roughly, knocking his goblet over. The thick red liquid leaked down the smooth stilted table and onto the pure white rug, forever staining the snowy carpet.
"What?!" he roared, raising up to his two feet and swiftly paced over to Charles Brandon who had not yet failed to betray his emotions.
"What is it you say? Repeat your words!" roared the King, anger riling up inside of him like a blazing fire.
"Before Catherine passed away from… childbearing, she had claimed the child was yours. I hoped to convey to you in private about this matter so there would not be an uproar" sullenly replied Charles Brandon, speculating if Henry would strike him.
Anne Boleyn who sat in the opposite side of the room finally spoke up "Is what you speak truly so? The King would never sleep with a woman he was close to discarding"
Charles eyed Henry Tudor and noted the slight expression of culpability but it was quickly distinguished as wrath began to consume him.
"The filthy Spanish whore believes that if she sleeps with some tavern wrench, then she could pass off the bastard as my own! I do not claim this bastard boy as my son. I want nothing to do with her spawn"
Charles Brandon forced himself to prevent his eyes from rolling. "Wouldn't you wish to see the child beforehand?" he probed, anticipating for Henry to change his mind but to no avail.
"Don't be ridiculous, Brandon. I have no interest in seeing a baby whose father nothing but a mere commoner." Stated Henry, clenching his hands into round fists. "I want the council summoned this instance, I want this issue over and done with!"
Seeing no point to further convince the King to seeing Arthur, Charles bowed and headed out the door to prepare the privy council for an official conference. He didn't like one bit how his meeting with the King played out and despised to see the other noblemen's reactions to Catherine's son.
The man clad in dark black robes remained utterly silent as the King angrily referred to Catherine's son as an abomination. Their minds were jumbled to what Henry was saying but they had quickly recollected themselves and strategized their next move as politicians were meant to do.
"What do you say we must do with the bastard, your majesty?" asked Thomas Howard, 3rd Duke of Norfolk.
"I hardly care what happens to the woman's frogspawn, I want it to be further known that I am not the father!" The King roared, smashing his fists on the long table. A few lords closest to him cowered at his temper.
"Of course, your majesty the bastard boy is certainly not yours" replied Thomas Howard, inclining his head to show his respect. The King huffed angrily and continued ranting about Catherine's infidelity and producing a bastard son to spite him.
"Would the boy continue to reside in Kimbolton castle, your majesty?" asked Thomas Cromwell.
Henry looked thoughtful for a mere moment but anger was swiftly replaced "Let the Spanish dogs take him back where he belongs or maybe his common born father shall retrieve him to his ranch so he could become a farm boy"
A large number of the King's advisors outwardly laughed at Henry's joke but the few others who were relatively known as Catholic and in the past supported to Catherine's regime looked absolutely stricken.
"And if none comes to claim the boy?" Cromwell continued to ask, still grinning ear to ear after the King's hilarious jest.
Before the King could reply, Charles Brandon who had heard enough from the power hungry aristocrats stepped in to display his opinion. "It would be best if they lad continues to be present in Kimbolton. There he would be of no threat"
"The boy will not live in my residence!" Henry snapped "Send him to the north, theirs a decent house the bastard may reside in. After today I pray to hear nothing of his existence"
His advisors nodded their agreements and voiced their consideration to the process of sending Arthur to the North. Charles hated the idea of a newborn infant being sent to the harsh, cruel climate. It was very much likely for the boy to catch a fever and die at a young age. Charles wanted to convince the King to reconsider but Henry's mind was completely set.
Returning to his private chamber was a comforting thought to Charles after all that had transpired earlier. As he entered his vast luxurious quarters, his eyes fell upon his wife, Margaret who sat into a velvet red cushioned arm chair, idly staring into the heath, where a rapid fire blazed. Her gown was a soft pink satin and silk, trimmed in the finest lace. The front of the dress was cut so low; it looked as if her bosom would burst any second.
"Charles" she murmured. "Is it true?"
"What's true?" he asked, fully knowing what she meant.
"Catherine has given birth to a bastard son. The whole court is talking" Margaret said, playing with her pearl necklace.
Charles sighed. Rumors spread like wild fire here at Hampton court "Aye, what they say is accurate"
Margaret lingered in silence for a few seconds before asking another question "What do you consider of all this? Is the boy the true son of Catherine and Henry?"
"I can hardly say" muttered Charles, closing his eyes in weariness.
Unnoticed by Charles, Margaret hoisted herself so she was standing and approached her lord husband. "Have you been with another whore?" she bluntly asked.
A taken back by her random inquiry, Charles angrily barked "Of course not!"
"Then tell me, my lord why have you grown so distant?" Margaret snapped back.
Charles heaved a deep groan "It's been a long, eventful day. I'm simply tired"
Margaret furrowed her small, pretty face and retorted sarcastically "Are you sure dear Husband that you haven't fucked any whores on your journey to Catherine? Or were you much too drunk to remember?"
Charles Brandon automatically stood up and glared at the sister of the King. "No, your highness, I have not 'fucked' any whores recently. Now if you excuse me" Charles Brandon strode out, fuming as he went. Behind him, Margaret clasped back into her velvet arm chair and pitifully sobbed.
Phew, I was hoping to finish this chapter earlier but I haven't had the time because I working and when I got home I was too exhausted to write. This chapter is not as long as my other ones and for that I'm sorry! I hope you all enjoyed this new chapter.
Please review! Thanks to all those awesome people who have. You guys are all my favourites.