The Other Henry VIII

Loved and Lost

Somehow, I had the energy, inspiration and motivation to write this chapter in one sitting. Well done me. Hopefully this makes up for when I didn't update in two and a half months.
~ RedPanda

2nd April 1523

Richard Cavill Jr was not afraid to admit that he missed Leia. Or at least, not to anyone but the King of England. He missed her comforting, confident presence and the feeling of her arm slipped through his, the kiss of her gentle lips and her clever words. Despite the rumours around court saying that she was a cold, heartless old woman in the body of a twenty-one-year-old girl, Leia had proved to him that she was perfectly capable of being warm and kind to those who she believed deserved it.

Admittedly, Richard regretted ending their courtship somewhat. At the time, he had considered it the noblest decision, for the King had proved to his kingdom that he could claim ownership of any woman that he desired, but now it seemed like such a cowardly thing to do. No wonder Leia barely talked to him now.

And yet, another constant stream of thoughts began to occupy Richard's mind as the new month arrived. He would go riding often, although he was not a natural talent and was not accompanied by Leia assist him anymore, and had recently noticed a new stablehand who bemused him considerably.
Usually, courtiers paid no attention to the servants and took the unfaltering service at the King's court for granted; however, Richard was not like most of the courtiers. He possessed a level mind and decent heart, so was accustomed to thanking and lightly conversing with the servants who would help him to saddle up and mount. This youth that he first observed not long after Princess Clara's surprising return to court could not be much older than fourteen or fifteen. He possessed a mop of unruly auburn-brown hair and dark wood-toned eyes. To almost anyone else, the boy would have appeared perfectly ordinary, but Richard had convinced himself of an almost ridiculous notion and was determined to pursue it.

One overcast afternoon, when he was feeling particularly gloomy about Leia, Richard resolved to venture to the stables and enquire about the stablehand. He slipped away from one of his father's and uncles' tedious trade discussions and strode inconspicuously along the halls of the palace, trying not to catch anybody's eye along the way. As Richard exited the palace into the courtyards nearest to the stables, he felt the blustering wind nip at his cheeks and moved faster. Ben, one of the senior stablemen that answered to the Master of Horse directly, was working in close proximity to him but Richard turned towards the small building itself and took one step instead.
"Excuse me?" he called out, immediately wondering whether he should have said something else. "Is anyone—"
"Yes, milord?" replied someone. The very stablehand that Richard had been seeking emerged from one of the stalls, holding a strange-looking brush of some kind. "Would you like me to saddle up one of the horses for you, milord?"

"I, erm— no thank you. Rather— I mean... what is your name?" stuttered Richard, unsure about what exactly to say. The boy seemed surprised.
"James, milord. Why, if you don't mind me asking, milord?"
"Family name?"
"Oh, Goodwin, milord. Are you unhappy with my service, milord?"
Richard felt himself grow hot from embarrassment. "Oh no no, of course not. James... Goodwin. It is nice to meet you formally, James."
And then, Richard fled briskly. He was not quite socially talented enough to continue a conversation with a relatively unknown person for any longer. However, his idea remained unchanged: this James Goodwin looked an awful lot like his younger brother Joseph.

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6th April 1523

"Must you leave court, Margaret? Must you forsake me when I am still vulnerable?"
"You, brother, vulnerable?" the Countess of Rochford laughed. "My apologies. But I am married and have been for years. I have every right to continue my life with my husband detached from court. You know that I adore Rochford Hall and its peaceful quiet."
Henry sighed and raised his sister's hands to his lips. This was the formal farewell to the Earl and Countess of Rochford and the courtiers gathered around were silent, for once. With them would go their only child, William, and their ward John, for the King had lost all faith that the boy was his and yet could not bring himself to condemn an innocent child. Their party was suitably large and ready to depart but Henry was still uncertain about what he would do without his beloved Margaret's comfort and advice at court. Ever since Esther's death and funeral, his misery had shifted into numbness and his spirits were only barely lifted by his sister or Leia.