Disclaimer: I own nothing, but my OCs. All rights go to Showtime, the creator of The Tudors.
A/N: Hello everyone! I apologize for the delay in updates. Between moving and work, life gets busy. Hello to my new favs/followers: Yellow-Phoenix25 and stackofshapes.
Ch. 18
What should I say,
Since faith is dead,
And truth away
From you is fled?
Should I be led
With doubleness?
Nay, nay, mistress!
I promised you,
And you promised me,
To be as true
As I would be.
But since I see
Your double heart,
Farewell my part!
Though for to take
It is not my mind,
But to forsake
[One so unkind]
And as I find,
So will I trust:
Farewell, unjust!
Can ye say nay?
But you said
That I alway
Should be obeyed?
And thus betrayed
Or that I wiste—
Farewell, unkissed.
~Sir Thomas Wyatt,
12th July 1537 Clifford's Tower
Robert Aske expected his impending misfortune, knowing his comrade Robert Constable had been hung in chains multiple days before his own execution. He would not reject death but greet it openly and whole heartedly. He was to be the example for those who crossed the king if anyone should try to raise arms against him again. Though Aske would protest their cause was not against the king but requested the support of their religion and mercy of their king.
Escorted by the Tudor guards, he was led to the scaffold. His body was wrapped with chains, his skin bruised and bloodied from his treatment during imprisonment. His feet were bare and blistered as he shuffled them over the stone of the tower floor. He didn't even feel them. It was if he was numbed to the pain.
Aske was absolutely filthy as he hobbled across the tower, the courtiers present for his execution looking away uncomfortably at a man who had led a rebellion. He faltered for a moment, the guards catching him and having to aid him to the base of the scaffold. He started praying aloud to himself, the guards going about their business and the executioner reaching for him at the edge of his demise.
"I ask you to pray for me for I have greatly offended god, the king, and the world...God, I have offended by breaking his commandments in many ways; And the king I have offended
by breaking his laws, to which every true subject is bound by the commandment of god," Aske murmured to himself. His eyes were closed and yet all could hear his voice as he spoke. "And the world I offended since, for my actions, so many have lost their lives, their lands, and their goods. I ask forgiveness of his grace, his majesty. Also, my lord privy seal, my lord chancellor...And my lord of Suffolk, whose trespasses against me I also forgive with a free heart. I love all the world."
When he opened his eyes, Aske did not expect to see the Duchess of Gloucester. He knew that Suffolk would be there, the duke holding a grim expression on his face as he watched Aske. He felt guilty he could not save him, like he was responsible for his death. Her appearance was haunting as he took in her shallow cheeks and circles under her eyes. She had seen death recently and yet; she had the courage to come to his execution.
"My gracious lady, you should not be here," Aske spoke loud enough for her to hear. Grace stared up at him teary eyed, her black veil surrounding her like a shroud of death. Suffolk turned, having not noticed her arrival. Her lady followed behind her, watching her mistress carefully. He knew Percy had died and her entrance was not comfort to him.
"I want to be here, to show you that I will forever hold your cause dear to my heart." Grace looked as if she was on death's door herself, her pregnant belly showing and making Suffolk wary. Though she was in the early stages of pregnancy, she was overtaken by the size of her stomach. She looked much too small to be carrying a child. "If my child is a boy, I shall name him after you and my husband. I will tell my child of your bravery Robert Aske. Your memory will live on." Aske nodded his head, his impending death overshadowed by a sliver of happiness.
"I will pray for you good sir for I am sure you will be received as one of God's angels in heaven. Your death has come far too early," Grace announced. Aske sending her one final smile as he made the sign of the cross over his chest.
The executioner made his final move, handling Aske and carrying out his death sentence. Hung from the tower, Aske dangled like a fish on a line. Yet, there was something entirely frightening about the way he struggled for breath and his body convulsed. Grace had seen her brothers partake in fishing and she always grimaced when the fish were squirming in the air. And now, staring up at Aske, she gave a muffled scream as her hands covered her mouth.
Suffolk caught her before she hit the ground, cradling her head in his hands as her maid hurried towards them in fear. The last few weeks had taken a toll on Grace, and she had fainted.
"Grace! Grace! Wake up," Suffolk urged, shaking Grace lightly in his arms. Her eyes fluttered for a moment, and she smiled weakly.
"Always the hero, aren't we Charles?" Grace mused before her eyes rolled back and she fainted once more. Quickly, Charles lifted her into his arms and towards the group of men who had just witnessed Aske's execution.
"Fetch a physician!" Suffolk commanded, the men looking at him in a confused manner at the sight of the woman in his arms. "Do as I say! This is the Duchess of Gloucester!" he shouted, the men now springing into action.
The archbishop ushered him into a room, Charles laying Grace down gently. Her eyes were still shut, and Charles tapped her cheeks lightly, but nothing occurred. He turned to her lady, wondering why she would let her mistress endure such an event, but the girl looked as frightened as he felt. He hadn't recognized her at first and his anger lessened when he realized it was Catherine Carey. She was just a child and had most likely been brought as a formality for Grace's recklessness.
"Where does Warwick think you are?" Charles questioned, wondering how the duke would let his daughter out of sight.
"I don't know my lord. My aunt ushered me to her side early this morning before anyone awoke. She coerced the servants into keeping her secret." Catherine had the decency to understand the precarious nature of her situation, but she was still green as Charles noted. He nodded at her, appreciating her honesty. He did not feel the need to make her guilty as she already felt.
"It's the stress of the past few days, my lord. It is taking a toll on her body. And her pregnancy is not helping either. My mother says she should be put on bedrest like she had been with my brother," Catherine revealed. Charles was sure Grace would have been livid if she was awake and hearing her niece, but thankfully she stayed asleep.
"Perhaps that would be the best course of action until your uncle's funeral, Lady Carey. Once the doctor assesses her, I will escort both of you back to Newington Green." He would not leave Grace's side until she had returned to her family. Perhaps Henry had been wrong. Grace needed him more than ever.
Windsor 13th July 1537
Henry rushed to his wife's chambers, her ladies saying she wanted to see him about the child growing in her womb. They had no idea of the particulars of which she wanted him so urgently which made him immensely worried. Plague was in London and for her safety and his, court had retreated to Windsor. He had been hunting in Windsor Great Park when he was summoned. "Sweetheart, I came as soon as they told me. Is everything alright?" Her ladies were in a frenzy when he entered her rooms so abruptly, Jane smiling at his concerned behavior. He didn't even spare Anne Bassett a glance, a sour expression appearing on her pretty features.
Jane beckoned to the king. "Everything is fine. Come. It's kicking." She reached for Henry's hand, laying it on his stomach as she felt her child move. She was already quite large, her gowns unlaced to their fullest extent. It was sure to be a sign of a healthy child if not a son. Her fondness of quails which were sent from Lady Lisle in Calais certainly seemed to aid her pregnancy along.
"He feels strong. Edward…my son. Be strong." Henry was so gentle as he stroked her bump, a beaming smile on his face as he laid his head and whispered to their unborn child. And yet, a small part of him wished it was Grace that he was laying his touch on and that it was her child he was speaking too. He pushed the idea aside, wondering why he would ruin his current happiness for a fleeting dream. He felt the guilt building inside the pit of his stomach, and he hardened his heart against Grace Neville once more.
Wressle Castle 20 July 1537
Ambassador Chapuys had taken the liberty of visiting Grace in her time of grief, the duchess dressed in black as she sat silently in front of the window of the entertaining room. It was storming outside and mirrored her emotions within. They had held the funeral the day before, Grace not allowing herself to attend. Instead, she had locked herself in her rooms and knelt in front of her cross the entire duration of the funeral. She only stopped when her brothers had somehow unlocked her door and dragged her to dinner so she would not starve herself.
"I give you my condolences, your grace. I apologize that I was unable to attend the procession yesterday."
"You and I are both at fault then it seems." Grace gave him a brief smile, the first one in days and yet hers had a sense of bitterness to it. "I could not bring myself to walk down that aisle when it is the same one I walked down at my wedding. Do you think it wrong of me?"
Grace stared back at Chapuys with glistening eyes that seemed to resemble the raindrops lazily making their way down the glass. Chapuys shook his head. "It is not wrong my lady. It is not a sign of weakness either. You loved your husband. You loved him as life as you shall in death."
"I was hysterical at first. I could not be controlled. I refused to eat. I could not sleep. Only my girls gave me the strength to survive," Grace lamented.
Grace remembered that dreaded day, burned into her mind as if a hot poker would pierce her skin forever. Her maids had attended to her every need that morning, trying to make her forget it was the day of her husband's funeral. Her mind had been numbed with wine from Bordeaux, her father forcing it down her throat at every available moment. It was just enough for her to forget for a split second, but not enough for her to completely block her Percy from her mind.
Simple things reminded her of him, and Isabel was a constant comfort for her, the child looking exactly like her father. She only hoped the one in her belly was the same, a perfect replica of it's father. She only hoped it was. A boy to carry on its father's title.
It was the moment before she was to walk out behind her husband's casket, and she broke down. Noting would sooth her. She sent the servants away and was consumed by her grief, her brothers having to break down the door at the sound of her despair. Anne had to lead the funeral procession, holding Rosalind in her arms and Isabel trailing behind. Richard held their son, his older three boys and Elizabeth also walking behind the couple. Anne would be the pillar of strength for the family at this time, a burden she would gladly accept.
Grace cried herself to sleep again that night, wondering why Henry had not come to comfort her. Not Percy, but the king. She had thought he would come and save her from her misery, but he had stayed away. He had deserted her during her time of greatest need. Unbeknownst to her, her brother had visited the king and warned him to stay away. Curled into a ball, she finally found slumber when a blurred image of Percy appeared behind the lids of her eyes.
Grace was drawn from the memory at the sound of Chapuy's voice. "Children give their parents a reason to live. They are the greatest joy in life. You are most fortunate to have them." Chapuys had yet to make the acquaintance of the Percy children, but he had caught glimpses of the eldest, Percy's child before he married Grace. The younger daughter was still a mystery. He had never laid eyes on her, as if Grace wanted to keep her a secret from the world. Not even the Lady Mary had met her yet, whether because her father kept her away or because Grace chose so he did not know.
"Well, there is a reason for your visit," Grace continued, changing the topic effortlessly. She did not like being under scrutiny if the ambassador. Though he was her friend, his loyalty was still to the Emperor. "Did you mean to deliver some news from court? I will not return to that hellhole, Chapuys."
"I am not asking for your return. I am merely concerned for the Lady Mary. It seems her fate has not yet been decided until the king's wife has her child." The king's unborn child was taking precedence over his daughters, specifically his eldest daughter who was of marriageable age.
"So, the king has halted his plans for Mary because the queen has yet to give him a son?" Grace scoffed at the notion. Mary had suitors lining up and the king was so focused on his heir he forgot about his eldest child. He had forgotten his words to her, that he would value his daughters as he would value a son.
"She is tool to be used to the advantage of England and he insults her. She is valuable. She is his pearl. And he has forgotten once again." Chapuys nodded, remembering how the king used to call Mary his 'pearl of the world.' He would carry her on his shoulders throughout the great hall of his palaces when she was small, doting on her in front of all his courtiers. How times had changed so quickly.
"She could have been married to the dauphin, but that opportunity was missed. She could have married to the Emperor, but now she has the opportunity to marry his son. He is too young. It is a far larger gap in age than the king would like. 11 years may be an issue when the groom is 14 and the bride is 25, assuming that's when the marriage would take place. And now Scotland. With the French queen of Scotland gone, she could yet be the queen of Scots." Madeleine of Valois had unfortunately died, ironically of the same sickness as her dear Percy. And the king should have thought to make an advantage of the unfortunate circumstance, but he was so enwrapped in his unborn child that he neglected his existing ones.
"You would negotiate her marriage for her, my lady?" Chapuys raised an eyebrow at that notion.
"Mary is the daughter if a king. Should she not be a queen herself?" Grace questioned. "Whether it be Scotland or Spain, Mary will be the mother of kings. Henry needs to acknowledge that."
"I am sure the French are already on the lookout for a new bride. The King of Scots will marry again within the year," Chapuys added. "Scotland will want to continue their alliance with France. It will not be his other daughter, Margaret. Francois will not want to lose her too." Margaret would perhaps never leave her father's side, his only daughter left. The French king had seen his fair amount of loss as well, his two eldest daughters dying in their early childhood and then losing two grown children within the span of a year.
"You will need to bring this up to Cromwell. Whether he likes it or not, Mary is an essential part to the king's alliances. Scotland is important to England whether they like it or not. James is the king's nephew after all," Grace elaborated. Chapuys frowned at the notion, thinking Mary should have a Spanish husband, but perhaps Grace was right. If Scotland was lost to France, Spain would be at a disadvantage. With Mary the daughter of the English king and Katherine of Aragon, she would help with relations between three different nations.
"Or perhaps we could follow the example of the French king and find a German husband for Mary." Chapuys blanched at the idea of the eldest daughter of the king marrying a German heretic. "You may think it's an awful idea, but it binds the German principalities to us, creates an ally against the Turks who march on the entirety of Christendom. They are the buffer against our greatest enemy." If the Ottomans were to attack Europe, the east would be first to defend the Christian world. The Holy Roman Empire and the German states were the first line of defense before the west would be targeted. If Henry was allied with both nations, he could be credited with stopping the invasion of Europe and lend his forces in times of war. His daughter was the way to cement the alliance.
"I hope you are right, dear duchess." Chapuys would convey this proposition to Cromwell, leaving Grace out of the conversation of course. The marriage of the eldest daughter of the king would be mentioned by the Spanish ambassador, all influenced by Grace Neville and yet, Cromwell would be none the wiser. He would claim it was his idea and have no clue that Grace had snuck her way back into court politics with the aid of Chapuys.
Windsor 7th August 1537
The Imperial army had moved to attack Therouanne, the stronghold holding out against the invaders until July 30th. A truce had been decided, 10 months of peace agree upon between France and Flanders. Francois was due to meet and marry his new bride soon while negotiations for the new Scottish queen were also underway. Unbeknownst to Francois, Henry has begun his own search as well. Henry was lending money to the Emperor for his war, thriving off the animosity between the two rival nations. Some thought it was a dowry for the Lady Mary, but he had rejected the betrothal of Don Luis as Chapuys predicted.
"Chapuys suggested that we propose Mary's hand to your nephew," Cromwell said, Henry nodding at the idea. It would bind Scotland closer to them, perhaps mature his volatile uncle.
"Though it would give me some control over my nephew, he would have to seek a dispensation from the Pope. And I will not have him interfering with my alliances," Henry explained, having a deep dislike for the Papacy and many of its sacraments. He had begun a reformation after all, correcting the defilement of Catholicism. "Yet Mary would be queen and her children would sit on the Scottish throne. She could maintain some type of power over him. I won't have her marry the Emperor's son. He is far too young for her."
"And what about the German principalities? The Duchess of Milan is expected to marry the Duke of Cleves. We could propose the Lady Mary's hand as a sign of good faith." Cromwell was quite surprised when Chapuys suggested the match, thinking the man preferred a Spanish alliance. The ambassador had hoped Mary would marry Don Luis, but perhaps the Duchess of Milan could be used in some other match. The Duke of Angouleme would likely be suggested. And Henry preferred his daughter be a queen instead of the wife of a younger son. And if she aided in his reformation, he would be satisfied as well.
"We could deter the match between the French and Cleves. It would give us the upper hand. But Mary would be queen if she marries James." Cromwell nodded, leaning towards an alliance with a German principality due to Luther's influence there.
"There is another matter which I wanted to discuss, majesty. The Duke of Northumberland died without male issue." Henry's jaw tightened at the mention of Grace's late husband, his eyes darkening at the reminder that Grace rejected him for Percy again. "Therefore, his lands should revert to the crown and his daughter's wardship should be given to yourself. As for the unborn child, I see it as an opportunity to keep the lands for the crown even if it is a boy. His uncles are traitors to the crown, and you have kept them inside the tower for their treachery. They should remain there as an example or executed at your majesty's order." They were to be executed around the time of Aske, but Henry had faltered because of Grace and her relations to them.
"The Percy brothers will remain in the tower for the time being. As for Northumberland, do what you must. An attainder will be passed, but the custody for the child shall remain with the mother." Henry wanted no part in causing further grief to Grace, even though he knew passing an attainder would break her heart. It was another attempt to drive her away instead of bring her back to him. Arthur's words echoed in his head, the man having married Elizabeth Seymour a few days before. It would be her decision whether Grace would come back to him or not. However, the king was forcing his hand. Grace would never come back to him, would never forgive him for taking away her child's birthright. In his mind, it was his way of protecting himself against her.
Cromwell nodded at the king's words. "I will handle everything, your majesty." A sinister smirk appeared on his face. Grace was finally being punished for what she deserved and ironically, at the hand of the man who had once promised her everything.
Hampton Court Palace 16th September 1537
Jane's confinement came with ease, the queen and her ladies exiling themselves to the queen's chambers until her child was born. Even before her confinement, Jane barely ventured from her rooms for fear too much activity would harm her unborn child. Court would continue as it had, but now with the surrounding air of impatience for most and unease for a select few. Jane's nerves were starting to get to her, and she tried to remain calm for her child. Its impending birth was a reminder that if she did not do her duty, the king may discard her as her brothers had warned.
"I have heard talk that the Poles will be forbidden to come to court," Jane's sister Dorothy spoke, trying to pass the time away with gossip and sewing as all the queen's ladies practiced their embroidery or sewed shirts. Jane was intrigued but appeared uninterested to her ladies. She did not need her brother's thinking she involved herself in such matters as they would report back to them, her sister as well.
"That is the king's business, none of my own," Jane spoke, Dorothy leaning in closer. She was saying this for her own benefit, not that of their brothers.
"The king is to punish Grace Neville as well. The York relatives are being removed, one by one, and you shall no longer worry about her," Dorothy whispered, Jane nodding at her gratefully. That was the best news she had heard in weeks. She cast a side glance at the Lady Mary who was on the opposite side of the room. She had not heard anything Dorothy had said, speaking to Elizabeth Seymour now Neville.
"And what of Elizabeth?" The youngest Seymour daughter was in the midst of wedded bliss, unaware of the dangers surrounding her new husband.
"All I know is that the Poles and Exeter are at risk. Perhaps the Nevilles shall be ruined after the duchess is punished. I'm sure Lizzie will be spared. She is your sister and Arthur is a favorite of the king though our brothers would hate to admit it." It was true that the king enjoyed Arthur's company more so than any of the Neville brothers. Richard came to court because of his duty as the eldest son. John and Christian remained in the countryside most of the time with so many young children running around. Both had welcomed newborn sons in the summertime. Arthur remained at court the most because of his uncle and father, though he did it for the protection of his family rather than for power.
"Let us hope that is true," Jane added, concluding the topic with her sharp tone. "Dorothy, why don't you go and fetch some wine for everyone. I'm sure they would greatly enjoy it,' Jane announced. Dorothy sent her sister a confusing look, Jane never one to be commanding. She merely curtsied before obeying her sister's orders. Perhaps she had upset her at the mention of the king's previous paramour.
Hampton Court Palace 1 October 1537
"Are you sure you want to do this, Grace? We can return home and your father can petition on your behalf," More voiced. He hoped his niece would change her mind, would reconsider her attempt to reach the king. Grace lowered her eyes to her stomach, her hands cradling her unborn child inside. She was doing this for him, her son. She knew in her heart she would deliver a son for her beloved Percy. She would not let him come into the world without his inheritance.
I must, uncle. I've come this far, haven't I? I won't give up. I can't be a coward." Grace made her way into the chapel, More following closely behind while her brother Arthur acted as another source of encouragement. The king had just finished mass, unaware that Grace had arrived at court. He laughed with his brothers-in-law, one of them having said something that amused the king. His gaze fell on Grace, and he faltered in his walk, their eyes connecting.
The Seymour brothers practically scowled at Grace's arrival. Of course, she would come to court to protest the king's treatment towards her. They both agreed with her predicament, her husband's title being attained and herself barely escaping from the wrath of the king. They had even asked the king to attaint her own title as the Duchess of Gloucester, but he hasn't decided yet.
Henry could only stare coldly at Grace, his blue eyes having darkened at her appearance. He watched her, the way she almost tiptoed towards him with her diamond studded veil trailing behind her. It had black trim, the same as her dress which looked darker navy than black. His eyes drifted to her round stomach, and he felt a choking sensation of guilt creeping up his throat.
"Go on," Henry spoke to his retinue. He no emotion in his voice. It was like he was numb to them, his eyes never leaving Grace as he waited for privacy. He hasn't dreamed that she would appear in her condition and there she stood before him to petition on her husband's family's behalf.
Grave approached the king silently before dropping to her knees and reaching for his hands. "Majesty, I beseech you. Please have pity on a widow and her unborn child. Please do not take my child's inheritance away on account of the sins of his uncle. My late husband did not partake in the rebellion against you and had always demonstrated his loyalty to your majesty and your will."
Henry could only look at her in shock, Graces tears falling onto his hands and staining them with her pleas. Her soft lips kissed the tops of his hands, begging for him to rescind his decision.
"For the love of God. More, your niece should learn to control herself in the presence of the king. She is distracting him from his visit to his wife...the queen." More immediately noticed the emphasis on "wife," sending the eldest Seymour a challenging look.
"I would be careful what you say in front of me, Seymour. Your sister is in a precarious position right now. The king can divorce her just as quick as he married her if she does anything to displease him. You see how he treats my niece. You know she was once highly favored by him and the previous queen. Some say she was to be the new queen. I hope your sister doesn't make any mistakes. It would cost you greatly." Edward Seymour stepped away, his brother Thomas sending him a cautious look. He regarded Mores words carefully. He was right, though he hated to admit it.
Henry appeared as if he would accept Graces request, but his face turned hard, and his eyes glazed over as he pulled his hands from her and went to walk past her. "Your husband's family is paying the price for their treachery. I will not show leniency to rebels. You should be grateful I have not taken your title or lands from you madam, otherwise your child would truly be left with nothing."
"You would be so cold to me after all I've done for you? After what we were? After what I gave you?" Grace whispered, staring up at the king as if he had just taken her soul from her body. Her eyes were almost lifeless, the hope having been taken from them and the light inside dead.
The king was aware of the audience they had, feeling uncomfortable that they were watching his private conversation. There was also an immense amount of pressure on him, the Seymours staring at him as if they expected him to cast off Grace. Charles gave Grace a look of pity, his eyes urging the king to consider her request. Graces uncle and brother held the same look. The other courtiers stood holding their breaths, waiting to see if his anger would target another victim.
"Majesty, please," Grace spoke silently again, pleasing once more for her child's inheritance. Henry began his walk away from her, not looking back. He couldn't. If he looked again into those forest green eyes, he would lose all control.
Grace made her way to her feet, her knees wobbling as she held her pregnant stomach and started to weep. She turned, the kings back to her as she watched his determined walk. "Majesty, I beseech you." Nothing. He wouldn't even budge as he walked towards the Seymour brothers.
"So, the whole court will know that you ignore the pleas of a pregnant, widowed woman? That because of the sins of the uncle, the nephew is to be punished for no reason. They will all know you show no compassion, that you are cruel and heartless." Still nothing. He would not acknowledge her insults being hurled at him as she cried hysterically at him. As much as it pained him, he would not yield.
Grace did the only thing she knew would help, walking quickly towards the king. It was a last resort. If her plan didn't work, he would be lost to her. "Henry, please," she begged. Hearing his name hit the king's heart deep as he halted, her voice tugging on his heartstrings. She kneeled again, this time behind him as she grabbed his hand. "Please. I would give you anything to see that my child's title is restored to him."
Henry's gaze turned to her face, her eyes muddled with tears. He drew in a death deeply, his being hurting so deeply at seeing how he could cause such anguish. He still loved her, he would always love her. "I'll discuss this further with you when you calm yourself madam," he announced.
And then the light retuned to Graces face, that brilliant glow around her returning. And Henry felt whole again. He nodded, slowly drawing his hand from hers. It was a promise of a meeting, but much more than that. He made his departure, sparing her one last look as she remained kneeling in the chapel. She looked like an angel though her eyes were red from crying. It was like she had been given the kings one last ounce of humanity. He was not lost. He was hers.
A/N: Reviews?
