Festina Lente

Chapter Nine: Ippolito de' Medici

18th of December 1530 - London, England

Walking through the halls of the Tudor palace, Ippolito was more than relieved to finally have arrived especially after such a long journey; the seas had been quite rough and there had been a moment where he had feared that he might not make it to England at all. 

The guards that led him through the palace had been most kind to him since he had arrived at the gates; he was sure the sight of him had come as quite a surprise. 

He had shown up at the gates not even an hour before and demanded that he speak to the King of England on the matters of Rome; he had refused to be swayed and had insisted that he had information to help the King in his cause to marry the woman that he loved. 

Entering the throne room, Ippolito ignored the sight of some many nobles knowing that he had to play his part right; one wrong step and it wouldn't just be him that suffered for his actions. 

"Your Majesty," Ippolito stated dropping down onto one knee before the King, his eyes catching sight of his sister not far from the throne where she had been speaking to who he was sure was the Lady Anne Boleyn. 

Clarice looked well considering the sudden loss of her lands and Ippolito held no doubts that her current status was because of the kindness of the Lady Anne and King Henry. 

"It is truly the greatest honour to finally be at your court," Ippolito stated keeping his head bowed until the King bid him to rise, he moved to stand and looked upon the sovereign who seemed rather pleased with his display. 

A smile set upon the King's face, looking down from his throne to the man that had demanded that he would only speak to him; he had been most interested to hear what he had to say on the matters of Rome. 

"However, I fear that I bring nothing but grave news with me," Ippolito stated with a shake of his head, he clasped his hands behind his back and took a deep breath; he had travelled here for a reason and he could not afford a mistake now.

"I am Signore Ippolito de' Medici," he said introducing himself, no doubt that the King offered a glance to the side where Clarice was; the name Medici was rare in these parts and his sister was the first of their notable family to be stationed at this court. 

His name might not mean as much as Clarice's did especially considering he had been naught but a bastard at birth; a fact that some people would not let him forget. 

"Cardinal Medici," More stated with a frown, surely a man promoted by the Pope himself would not forget his calling to the church; not even to appease the King who temper at best was directed at those who would deny him what he desired. 

The look that formed on Ippolito's face at the mention of the title that he had been gifted by the Pope could not be missed; his nose wrinkled and a scowl formed on his face. 

"I am only a Cardinal because that decerped old man that calls himself Pope decided so. I do not feeling the churches true calling. I was Ruler of Florence before that was taken from me and gifted to the Pope's own nephew," Ippolito spat shaking his head, he would not go back to the church and he would do whatever it took to care for the only true family that remained to him. 

His words seemed to please the King while other seemed shocked by such an outburst that tainted the Vicar of Rome; surely a man of God could not have acted in such a way. 

"It seems His Holiness has a habit of taking what is not his to give," Henry mused with a content look on his face, the truth about what the Pope was truly like leaking through now with those closest to him turning on him.