One of the worst feelings in the world is feeling helpless. To realize there's absolutely nothing you can do, to be absolutely powerless and dependent on the expertise of another, is terrifying. It's such a rotten, foul feeling that makes a person paralyzed. It's a test of will, a test of strength, a test of faith and courage. To pass the test requires letting go and being vulnerable. But even that requires some doing, and it isn't very easy.
In the time that followed Charles being carried out by the guards, Mary felt helpless. It became known rather quickly that the Prince had been poisoned. A dark hush fell over the court in what should have been a happy gathering. Instead, no one could leave the palace until the head guardsman questioned each and every one of them.
These interrogations included everybody. Nobility and servant didn't matter in this case. They were alike in the eyes of the law, from the Privy Council, maids, valets, and even the carriage drivers. No stone will be left unturned until the culprit and accomplices are caught.
While the investigation commenced, Mary and the King were with Charles. The Royal physician told them, "Your Majesty, Your Highness, it appears the Prince has been poisoned with oleander. He fainted, convulsed, and threw up most of what had been swallowed. The vomiting is the best thing that could have happened, as it cleared his stomach and opened up his passageways. Regardless the oleander antidote has been administered, and I have bled him some. His breathing has returned to normal, and the fever has broken. At present, His Highness is sleeping under a heavy sedative dosage."
Mary became glad her father was in the room because he had the mind to ask, "When he wakes up, what shall we expect? How long will he be asleep? He will wake up, right?"
The doctor answered all questions with unease due to the King's presence. He tugged at the cravat before responding, "Sire, Princess; the Prince is a robust, healthy, and fit man. Those qualities helped him in this circumstance. Had he been unhealthy, I fear we would be having a much different conversation. His Highness should wake up at least by early morning. He will be weak, which means no moving around for him. Due to recuperating strength, he must be off his feet for four or five days."
The man began to pack up his things into his apothecary bag. After finishing the packing, the short doctor conveyed, "It's also a good thing it was oleander poisoning and not some other vicious herb. Once he awakens, send for me."
As much as Mary wished this was Doctor Pearce helping her husband, she breathed a little easier. She's thankful the uncomfortable Royal physician knew how to treat the poisoning. Once the man left the room, her father declared, "Whoever did this will answer to me personally. They dare to be so bold as to poison the Prince, my friend, my son-in-law, under my nose and think they have gotten away with it. There will be no mercy. Why any one of us could have drunk the same poison, and we don't even know if it was truly intended for Charles." He paced back and forth, thinking out loud.
With a weak voice, Mary wanted to know, "Father are there any leads?"
He stopped and looked at his daughter. His eyes took her in, seeing the weariness and concern on her face mingled with the tension in her shoulders. "So far, there are no definite ones. Although, one of the kitchen maids swears she saw an unrecognizable man enter the kitchen and leave abruptly. Another maid confirms that story. I have since ordered that all the Royal food and drink be tasted. This means not only mine and Catherine's but yours and Charles's. Do you have someone in Wales who can do that job?"
These words made the Princess feel a little relieved. She nodded at her father's question. Back when The Whore was still alive, they employed a food taster. He's still in their service today. As drained as Her Highness is right now, she did have an intelligent thought. "Since two maids confirmed the story of the unrecognizable man, I wonder if the two could meet with the Royal artist. He can draw a picture of the description of the man and give it to the guards. It could help to identify the culprit."
The King, who had been deep in thought, came to himself. "That's a great idea. I will summon Hans at once and have the guards bring the two maids to him." He stepped out into the hall and gave orders.
While he briefly stepped away, Mary wet the washcloth again, rung it out, and wiped her husband's face. She placed the cool rag on his forehead and left it there. When her father returned, her fragile voice told him, "Father, I'm sorry this ruined your wedding day. You should be with your wife. I'm sure she's concerned. I will be here with Charles."
His Majesty took his daughter's hand. She brought his hand to her cheek and affectionately rested her head on it. Henry bent down and kissed the top of her loosely curled hair. Before he left, he told her, "You will summon me the minute he wakes along with the doctor. That is not a request. It's an order. You know I love the two of you. You're my family. If you need anything, ask. I have extra guards stationed at the entryway of your chamber hall. I will find who did this."
Mary knew he would because he has that look of Tudor determination in his eyes. When he left, she returned to holding her husband's hand and praying over him. The last time she felt genuinely helpless was the time The Whore conspired, and Charles was wounded with the sword. The poisoning brings back those horrible memories, and she can't help but draw comparisons. Mainly the fact that the Howards are back at court in full force. Her stomach dropped and turned sick at the thought. Any one of the Howards could have done this. But until there's actual evidence, it's only her speculation for now.
The day wore on, and Paisley sat to keep her company. The two reviewed the soap, lotion, and jelly list for the market. They also conversed about the garish attire of some of the ladies of the court, especially Priscilla Hampton- Lord Hamish's daughter.
Paisley despises her because she always tries to steal Sir William's attention. But Mary reminds her, "William is in full adoration of you. So you needn't worry. However, her tacky attitude does leave cause for concern. Same as with my new stepmother." An unladylike snort left Paisley's mouth, making the Princess chuckle.
When the sun went down, Paisley had long gone. Mary had begun reading the book Sir Lamorak and the Grouchy Giant aloud again. After finishing chapter three, she retook Charles's hand and stroked her thumb over it. Love boosts the immune system, or so she heard. Therefore the Princess spoke words of love to her husband. It's her hope they would give him reasons to wake up. They started out simple with "I miss you. I miss your bright eyes looking back at me. I miss your smile and your laughter. I miss your voice chastising me not to annoy my father's new bride."
Then she moved into more profound words of love. "You light my heart on fire with a single glance. The day we wed, my life changed for the better. You became my best friend and the love of my life. I never thought anyone would make me smile or laugh or capture my heart as fast as you did, but you did. You make it easy to love and be happy. You'll never know how much I love you because my love for you is big and so wide even I can't fathom it."
She's not sure how long she's been sitting vigil, but her legs are heavy. So she got up, stretched her back, and moved to stare out the window. While peering out the window, she noticed some of the nobility leaving the palace in their fancy carriages, Charles woke up. Everything burned and ached- his head, chest, throat, and stomach. His eyes searched the room and saw Mary by the window. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. After trying to lift his hand and couldn't, for being so weak, the Prince wondered what to do to get his wife's attention.
Noticing she left her book on the edge of the bed gave him an idea. All he has to do is push it onto the floor. But that's the hard part, pushing it. He can barely lift his hand. How can he move a book? Tugging at the bed covers, little by little, the book shifted. Finally, after practically using all of his strength, the book fell to the floor in a loud crash.
Whipping around, Mary's hand flew to her mouth at the sight of her husband's observant eyes. However watchful they may be, his eyes and face look drained of energy. Rushing to his aide, she sat on the bed and took his hand in hers. "Don't speak. Do you need water? Blink once for yes and twice for no." She decided this method could be helpful for him since the doctor said he would be weak. She thought of it while sitting vigil.
He wanted to laugh but couldn't. So he blinked once. Even that sapped some of his strength and left him tired again. Who knew blinking could use so much energy? His petite wife got up and readied a goblet. She brought it to him and helped him to drink it down. "Slowly, My Love," she called out.
Once he drained the contents, he opened his mouth to speak. His voice sounded raspy and hoarse. "What happened?" He strained to get the words out.
Mary submerged the washcloth in water, rang it out, and wiped his brow again. "You were poisoned with oleander. The drink in your glass was laced with it. I'm going to tell the servants to send for the doctor and my father. Try to relax." She fluffed his pillows and left the room.
Except the thing is, he can't relax. Someone poisoned him; technically, it wasn't him they were trying to poison. His glass had been empty, so he took up his wife's full glass for the toast. Whoever did this, that poison was intended for her. It accidentally ended up with him. His whole body tensed at the thought of this, making him dizzy. Nausea overtook his stomach, and he retched onto the floor.
The minute Mary returned to the room, she saw her husband bent over, vomiting by the side of the bed. She called for the servants to clean it up while she tended to him. The cool cloth rested on his forehead as she stripped him of the old, sweat-worn tunic. It left him bare-chested, as he likes to do for nighttime anyway. She had him chew on mint sprigs to settle his stomach before the male servants helped him to the toilet.
The doctor arrived while Mary straightened the bed area. After the male servants helped the Prince from the toilet, His Highness settled back into bed. Then the King came. Both physician and King examined the patient: one close up and one from afar twisting his ruby signet ring.
The doctor began asking him questions, which took much energy for Charles to answer. But the doctor concluded, "The antidote and vomit served its purpose. You have a horrible headache, and it will most likely stay with you until evening tomorrow. You are feeble, which is to be expected. So no jousting, riding, or hunting for you any time soon. You should lie in bed no less than four days, possibly five."
His Highness groaned his displeasure. The doctor told him, "I realize you are unhappy, but your health matters more. You may get up and take short walks around the room at first. It would be best if you worked your way up to longer constitutionals. I will leave a mint tonic with your wife to give you for nausea. If at any time you start feeling worse, send for me."
The man dug in his bag for the medicine. As he did so, he remembered something. His head poked up. "And no wine or ale. Your throat is still raw from the poison and antidote. Only water will do." Again Charles groaned in vexation.
The doctor handed the tonic to Mary, and she saw him out, peppering him with questions all the way. This presented the perfect opportunity for Charles to speak with Henry. He pointed to the glass of water. His father-in-law moved quickly to get it. After helping his friend to drink, Charles reclined on the pillows. He tugged the King's silkened sleeve drawing him close. Henry wore a perplexed face wondering what his friend could want. Once the King was near, the Prince began to speak with fatigue. "Poison, glass, Mary," were the only words he could get out.
Now Henry prides himself on being a man of great intelligence. He can suss out a plot and converse with even the most incomprehensible of people. But those three words left him a tad baffled. He ran them over and over in his head. Poison- glass- Mary. What could that be? Unless...
Looking at his oldest friend and family member, His Majesty now wore a troubled face. "Are you trying to tell me that the glass which held the poison was not your own but Mary's?"
Charles raised an eyebrow and whispered, "Yes." He realized it hurt to raise even an eyebrow. Oh, God! In times like this, his age shows.
Falling into the chair beside the bed, the King rested his head in his hand. This recent development is most distressing. It puts a new spin on things. There's no way around it, "Someone tried to kill her. The amount of oleander in the drink would have had far more lethal consequences than it did for you. Should we tell her?" The Prince shook his head no. His blue eyes cut Henry to the quick, so he readily consented to keep it quiet.
Mary rejoined her father and husband. She sat on the bed beside Charles. "The doctor says you can try eating something tomorrow for breakfast. I hope you don't mind, father, but I ordered a breakfast of bread and fruit for us."
Raising his Royal hand, Henry waved her off. "Of course, I don't mind. But everything the both of you eat or drink will be tasted. We cannot take any chances until the culprit is caught. Charles, while you were sleeping, I ordered an investigation. The update is this, the picture Hans drew from the two kitchen maids' description has been beneficial. I hate to say it, but the man described appears to be a servant of the Percy household. Now I realize the Percy's are more closely associated with the Seymours but also have relations with the Howards. Of the two, I feel the Howards would most likely be the ones to have done this. I don't think the Percy clan actually engaged in this plot, but more a servant acted of their own free will." He rested his head back on his hand.
This did not make Mary comfortable. One of the Howards tried to kill her husband. She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. The King rose from the chair. He spoke to the Prince and Princess. "The hour is late. Try to get rest. I will be looking into the new revelations." Then he turned and exited.
Mary watched her father's retreating back. In a daze, she asked, "What new revelations?" Her eyes turned to find her husband's. Too tired to speak, he patted the spot beside him. She moved to sit where he directed and immediately began fussing over him. The cool cloth returned to his forehead, and her fingers carded through his hair. Before she could calm and still entirely, she questioned if he needed anything.
Again he patted the spot. With all the strength he could muster, he took her hand in his and placed it over his heart. "Love you," were his words to her.
At those words, she kicked off her shoes, adjusted herself, and laid down with her head on Charles's chest. Then the damn broke, and the tears came. She wept and muttered words of love and worry. Her husband stroked her hair with delicate fingers. He soothed her the same way he does one of the children, with soft shushes and tenderness.
When her breathing turned even and steady and her eyes closed, he kept stroking her hair. It's like a balm to his nerves. He lay wondering about the poison plot and what it meant. The thoughts turned to his wife. She thinks the poison had been for him when it was meant for her. It's hard to not hate the Howards.
Since the death of The Whore, Charles's quiet simmering pot of abhorrence sat over a flame. That family also sat back, biding their time. They hadn't made any big moves until now. As the simpering child will sit on the throne soon, the Howards are again positioned for power, with the Duke of Norfolk orchestrating it all. Initially, the Prince had intended to observe and not place himself so openly against that family. He would sit and watch and bide his own time with them. But now that this happened, he realizes he cannot be off his laurels. The simmering pot of abhorrence is now threatening to boil over.
There are very few things Charles Brandon hates. For one, he cannot stand chaos and the disorder it brings. It rankles his nerves and stresses him out. Over the years, he's realized chaos is change. And change is unpleasant. So for him, when there's chaos, he has to find the calm in its midst. It's not always easy because he's wired to charge forth into the fray and battle it head-on. But life has taught him to take notice of the disorder and dance in its rain.
Another thing he cannot stand is being still for very long. He enjoys being up and moving about, doing this or that. On his desk at home, there are several folders. Each folder contains a different project of things he's working on to improve Wales and Suffolk. For example, one is an irrigation system, and another is more trade. Either way, these ideas have been on his mind for a while. And that's the point. If he sits still for too long, he stagnates and gets grumpy. Mary says it's his creative energy trying to burst out. He enjoys being in the middle of things.
A third thing he cannot stand is users. People who use other people for dishonorable purposes sicken him to the core. They're fake, not genuine. Everybody isn't your friend; he sees that play out daily at Court. The Royal Court is the most disingenuous place to be. It's always better to have an honest enemy than a truly fake friend. Fake people will stab you in the back all the time, and the only thing left to think about is where did the knife come from. This is why he observes people and works out their motives. Over the years, he's gotten very good at recognizing a person's truth of character. He knows who he can trust and who he cannot.
A final thing he loathes is anyone or anything that tries to hurt his family. It's why he insists on Owen not play near the blackberry bushes, which are plentiful around Cardigan in the summer. But for some unknown reason, his son is stubborn and wants to play near them. Then he runs in crying because he got stuck by the very bushes he wanted to play by. Charles had the servants construct a barrier around the bushes to keep Own out of them. So far it's worked.
It's the same reason he tells William not to run down the stairs. He'll never forget the day the boy fell down three stairs and ended up with a broken finger. It was terrible with many tears, especially from Owen, who hated his twin's finger was broken. Now he cannot construct a barrier for the stairs, but he questions Lady Ashdown about the running all the time. Finally, William has broken out of that habit because he threatened him with Duke's doggie leash. He will never forget his son's look when he told him, "I will put this leash on you, and you can only stay attached to your mother. That means you must go where she goes, even to the tailor's shop. And you know she will make you get fitted for new clothes." That seemed to get William's attention because he hates getting fitted for new clothes. His running lessened to walking fast, which is an improvement.
More than his children, and he will protect them with his dying breath, is his wife. It's one reason he pushed her to talk with her father and clear the air. It's also why the anonymous guards are stationed around her, even though she can't see them. The threat to her is always present because of who she is. He'll never forget his helplessness when she fell down the stairs. It's the same way he feels now- to a degree.
When there is something Charles Brandon wants, he will get it. He will run it down and see it through. Once the culprit is caught, they will rue the day they ever thought to poison his wife. And when he finds out exactly who is behind this plot, nothing short of death will be good enough.