The Serpent Queen

37. A mothers grief

18th of January, 1536, Paris

Tw: mention of execution and deceased babies

Francis carefully entered Catherine's room and saw that the room was already full. In addition to Catherine's ladies-in-waiting and the doctors, members of his family were also present.

His son Henri had taken a seat on Catherine's bed. With one hand he held Catherine's hand and with the other he gently stroked her hair.

His wife Eleanor sat on one of the chairs on the other side of the bed, holding an embroidery in her hands. She had positioned herself next to Catherines to keep an eye on her, and so had his daughter Madeleine.

Francis looked at Catherine. The marks on her skin had cleared by now, which meant the detoxifying medicine had helped.

"She's slowly getting her beautiful blush back." Eleanor said smiling. "The doctors are positive that she will wake up very soon and have no fear that she will not bear a child in the future."

Francis smiled. "That's good news, we'll have to organize a mass to thank the lord for his blessing and let the little boy peacefully enter the gates of heaven.

Henri, who only now noticed his father, climbed off the bed. "Who? Who did this to my family." He asked. He was ready to kill that person with his own hands.

Francis began by relaying what had just happened and told him that the boy would be executed today.

Henri ran his hands through his hair. He felt extremely stressed by everything that had happened. He was not only stressed but also tired and downright sad. He would have loved to hold his son in his arms.

He and Catherine would finally have fulfilled the promise to themselves and each other: they would make sure they were stronger than his brother Francis and let his father now that he, as the second son, was as worthy as the crown prince he so adored.

But now everything was broken, and all because Catherine was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

And it was partly Henri's fault. He had encouraged Catherine to visit the Queen, even though she had summarily refused.

"I want to be there when he feels the blow of the axe. I want him to suffer in his last moments father." He looked at his father with a look of anger that Francis had not seen on his son before.

"But of course, if that's your wish." He replied, he looked hesitantly at Henri.

༺༻

That evening, Henri stood beside his father, the English king, and his brother in the tall tower of the palace that overlooked a dais built for the execution.

The boy was dragged along by two guards and his cries could be heard from afar.

The boy looked with a pleading look at the tower where he knew the kings were watching.

"Your Majesty! Please!" he shrieked. His voice so shrill that the birds perched on the walls of the palace flew away.

But Francis, as ruthless as he is at the moment, did nothing. Instead of reacting, he watched as the boy was pushed onto the block and killed with three hefty blows. His head rolled onto the stage and his body went limp. The executioner grabbed the head by the hair and held it up towards the tower.

Prince Francis who had looked away when the ax hit his head turned white at the sight of the disembodied head. Henri, on the other hand, had been watching, and was still watching.