The Tudor Witch Book 1 Mistress

1525 Autumn

I did not think such rage was possible. How could he do this? Not only to me but to our unborn child. He has let such foolish thoughts cloud his judgment to the point he can no longer listen to sense. I would learn to curse him! But, it would be folly to do so, the stupidity of men was never a good enough reason for such damning actions. I blame the women, the harlots and the seekers of money, pulling him from so many directions that he does not even know his own mind. We all have children involved and there is nothing more protective than a woman ensuring her child's survival.

"Be careful with that!" I snap at a poor page boy. "It has fragile contents. I do not want to find them ruined by the time we get this burdensome journey over with." I practically hiss.

The pageboy moves quickly away, trying to escape my argumentative demeanor. My body is in pain and my emotions are leaping from one extreme to another, with no reason or set rhyme. I am quick to irritate, and I have a plenty of reasons to be angry. I lean my body against the carriage door for support, the crowd is too thick, the smell is unbearable and I am finding it all too easy these mornings to bring up my morning fast. I breathe deep in an attempt to settle my churning stomach. I focus on the carriage I am against, grand as it may be, it is a harbinger of ill-tidings. King Henry had made quick on his promise to send me away from the court. So swiftly had these arrangements been made, that I was now certain he wanted me away from him. The thought only fueled my raging blood.

"Be delicate!" I practically screech as another of my husband's pages, chucks another one of our trunks upon the overburdened cart. They all eye me with apprehension, my husband's household attendants were no doubt dis-pleased at the hastily prepared move and with such short notice. My screeching probably only added to their predicament, however, at this point in time I do not care. My only solace is that I am not the only one departing from court.

Princess Mary is also leaving the court, although, with much fan-fare and Royal Tudor pomp-celebration. I am suspicious that the timings of our departures have purposefully coincided. All eyes will be upon the Princess, leaving me free to slip away unwitnessed. It feels like an added punishment, to an already unfair absence from court. I doubt no one will be too upset by my leaving, and there will be those who are overjoyed but I feel like I am sneaking away unnoticed, overshadowed by Princess Mary. She is to travel to Ludlow in Wales to take up her mantle as The Princess of Wales, a renowned training ground for future Kings, and now I suppose, Queens. I laugh at the irony. It is a bizarre event so close to Fitzroy's ennoblement and you would be forgiven for believing the King had never in-fact changed his mind on the succession.

"Are you nearly ready, Katherine?" William asks as he inspects the carriage.

I glare at my husband. He, who had agreed with the King so easily on the matter of our removal from the court. I am inclined to think he wanted to leave and does not care about our survival at all. "As ready as I can be," I reply through gritted teeth, resentment still raw.

I climb into the carriage, taking my seat. I am not so easily led by the Tudor pageantry which is happening all around me. Henry had told me what he desired, a son to inherit the English throne. I have a strong feeling that he is hoping his fragile daughter will succumb to the harsh environment of Wales and die, just like his brother, Prince Arthur did. It is the perfect way for him to solve all his problems and blame it on a natural occurrence or the will of God. I wonder how Queen Katherine feels, watching her only daughter, her only redemption, leave for such a place, for she had once done the same journey and it did not bode well then, and the past has always had a habit of repeating it's self.

I look out through the carriage window and listen to the roaring cheers of the court and city folk, a deep rumble, so loud, but pleasant in mood. I should feel at least some sense of excitement, I have always been one to enjoy court celebrations, but it is all wrong. I am not part of the upbeat crowd, I am a lonely outsider watching from a distance, half-distracted by my own predicament, which I doubt, any will be upset by. My hand strays to my protruding stomach, I can feel the prominent curve even under my many layers of dress. It has become an unconscious move, a protective stance for the life within me, because, if Henry can show so much unhanded malice towards his only living daughter, then perhaps, my child will be better away from the court. I will never forgive Henry for his off-hand banishment but I am noticing a darkness beneath the light, and day by day a realization has dawned, we are all just pieces on a chess board and all can be sacrificed for the will and survival of the King, even the Queen and Princess are not safe.

The thought occurs and it is like clarity, a feeling of complete certainty that I can not mistake it for anything else. Although the Queen is a powerful piece in the game of chess, more so than the King, it will always be sacrificed for the Kings will. A deep shiver runs through my body and it is not from the elements, it is a seeing, a feeling which I know without a doubt will run true; whether a day from now or ten years from this date. "Queens will be sacrificed." I voice without attention and balk as soon I comprehend what I have said.

I look around quickly, I am alone in the carriage and no one is close enough to have heard my heretic prediction. I snap myself out of the trance, back into the now, and focus on something non-important to drag my mind away from what I have just said. Yet, the words are there, ingrained into my mind, and If I live long enough I may see if they ring true.