The Other Henry VIII

Marriage Contracts

4 May 1526
"Charles! It's good to see you back at court," exclaimed the King, giving his friend a hearty handshake and a clap on the back. "My condolences regarding your poor wife, of course. A sweet, pious woman by all accounts. What a waste."
"Indeed, Sire. And I must thank Your Majesty for throwing such a lavish feast in my honour."
Henry gestured to the chair immediately to his right, chuckling. "Nonsense, nonsense. Have you forgotten yourself, man? Banquets like this are commonplace when I have nothing better to do!"

The two men sat down at the table and helped themselves to the platters of food before them. A disappointment selection of meats, thought the King—there was not even any fowl!—but otherwise the dishes seemed satisfactory. Beside him, Leia, as usual, had scarcely touched her food and was swilling her wine goblet with an air of contemplation.
"Your Majesty," said Charles, turning towards her with a pie clutched in each hand, "I am delighted to see you in such good health."

"I appreciate your efforts, Your Grace, but there is no use in pretending: the sun does not do wonders for my complexion," returned Leia archly. "I could not be more tanned if I tried."
Henry gave a short, booming laugh as if to remind the others of his presence. "So, what brings you to court, Charles? Do you seek another wife or have you come merely for the marvellous choice of beautiful women to take to bed?"

"It would have to be the former, I'm afraid," confessed Charles, though his wandering eye suggested otherwise. "Though, I suppose there is no hurry. I might as well enjoy myself for a little while..."
He trailed off as his gaze fell upon a very pretty young woman in the corner, dancing with the Earl of Winchester's son, Arthur. Charles had always considered the boy to be rather an oaf, but he was certainly not worthy of being partnered with a girl such as that. The King seemed to follow his eye-line, for he placed his free hand squarely on his friend's shoulder and leaned in close to his ear.
"There is no hurry at all," he whispered conspiratorially, "Quick, before Winchester's boy snatches her."

Once Charles had gone, Henry sank back in his chair and tucked into his third cut of venison. There was something writhing and hollow inside of his stomach, goading him to eat until he could barely move; surely the food would smother every question and uncertainty in his head? But why had the Spanish King released Francis? Did the pair of them ridicule him behind his back? Was the King of England not to be taken seriously now? Was that why his ambassadors returned with no news? He nearly choked on the last bit of meat in an attempt to wolf it down.

"Perhaps you should try chewing your food," remarked Leia sardonically.
"You should try keeping your mouth shut," he retorted. Her steely glare humbled him in a heartbeat. "My apologies. There is too much on my mind at the moment."
"You miss your days of gallivanting, I suppose," was the sullen reply.
"I am a man of almost thirty-five, Leia, and a King at that. One cannot gallivant forever." He slipped his fingers through hers, the sound of their rings clinking together somehow overpowering the music and the chatter. "I have you now. Are you not satisfied with that?"
His wife glanced from their interlocking hands, to the blur of dancing couples, then finally to his earnest expression. Her lips seemed not to move at all.
"Aren't you?"

"Of course." He kissed her knuckles tenderly. "I am pleased to see that your cousin is joining us tonight. I have not seen her at a feast for some time."
"Verity prefers to dine in her chambers now. She doesn't like to be separated from her daughter. I think she fears losing her as she lost Richard." Leia choked on the last word, but recovered swiftly. "And those Cavills have been hovering about her like flies."
The pair of them gazed across the room at Verity, who was perched on the edge of her chair at the table of her late husband's family. Her skin was as pale and sallow as milk in the candlelight, as if she had not stepped outside in months. Beside her, the Duchess of Buckingham spoke rapidly with an air of superiority, chin raised and eyebrows so high that they were nearly concealed beneath her gable hood.