Festina Lente

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Royal Birth

22nd of February 1532 - London, England

"My Lord Bedford, how fairs mine and the Queen's Goddaughter?" Henry asked turning to look at his brother-in-law, he had been most pleased with his return from Beulieu where he had spent the past couple of months. 

The news that the Duchess of Bedford had been delivered of a healthy baby girl had been a stark reminder of what may happen when Anne was delivered of her own child. 

Despite the fact that the astrologers had asserted that Anne would give him the son that he was desperate for, but the same had been said of Katherine who had given him one living child while the rest had perished. 

Every care had been taken for Anne's health and that of their unborn child's while she laboured this day, God willing there would be no issues and he would finally have the heir that he was in desperate need of. 

The news had arrived that morning that Anne's labour had begun and Henry was most relieved to have both George and Thomas by his side at this time. 

"She is well, Your Majesty. She grows more beautiful like her mother with each day," George boasted with a smile, it amazed him how much Contessina had changed in the short time since her birth. 

It had almost made him stay away from court longer wishing to be around her and not miss a moment; he could not phantom how much she would have changed in the time while he was at court. 

Thomas Boleyn snorted at that and shook his head, he could not believe that Clarice had failed in delivering the heir that his son needed; he had not laid eyes on the child and had no intentions of doing so. 

It was imperative that Clarice gave son since God willing, George would be the Duke of Bedford and Wiltshire, Earl of Ormond when he had passed away; titles that would need to be passed on to a son lest they fall to another family or the line become extinct. 

Mary's children by her late husband would have a claim but they were Careys not Boleyns, it would not do for the Boleyn name to die out and it was a shame that George was his only surviving son. 

"I want jousts, banquets and masques to celebrate the birth of my son," Henry mused as they started down the stairs, people bowing to them as they passed but he paid them no mind knowing that today was the day.

Anne had been labouring for a few hours now and Henry had no doubts that it would not be long before there would be some sort of news; he couldn't remember the last time felt this anxious about the birth of a child. 

He'd suffered many great disappoints when Katherine had been pregnant, God had punished them by taking six of their seven children from them: most never living to be born. 

"I've already asked the French Ambassador to hold him at the font for his christening, if he drops him it's war," Henry declared much to the amusement of Thomas and George who followed him through the palace. 

His merry mood could not be tainted this day and he was already considering who he might be honouring to celebrate the birth of his son; he had a few people in mind and he hoped that would please Anne. 

Should she succeed in delivering him a son this day and secure the Tudor dynasty then Henry knew that he would do anything to please her; she would have earned it and nothing could be worthy of what she was giving him. 

Walking through the halls, Henry was pleased that everything was in order and when the moment came that the bells would be rung to let all of England know of their Prince's birth. 

No celebration could be too grand for the birth of a Prince, it had been many years since they'd had a true reason to celebrate such a thing. 

The only son that Henry had at present was Lord Henry Fitzroy, Duke of Richmond and Somerset but he was a bastard and Henry was in desperate need of a legitimate heir to his throne.