THE UNTOLD
— 1. Back to the Start
1422
The chapel at Westminster Abbey was silent and somber. Each person there was consumed with grief and on the verge of tears, if not already crying, at the sight of their beloved King Henry's corpse lying before them. He had won them France, but in the process, they lost him, which broke each of them.
The Bishop spoke in Latin as each of them prayed. Thomas was kneeling beside his stepmother, the Dowager Queen Catherine, in front of his father's body. He didn't cry. No. After all, his mother had only died the year before and the year before that, his sister Isabella had passed as well. He had lost both his older sister and his mother in the span of two years and now, he had lost his father as well. He had no tears left to cry.
His stepmother wasn't crying, either. She had cried when she first learned of his death, but not any longer. They had only been married two years, after all, and most of that time, his father had spent that time in the arms of his mistress, Thomas' mother, and not his wife. It was why Catherine only seemed to have fallen pregnant after Johanna had died. And because of that, by the time Catherine had fallen pregnant, Henry had already traveled back to France, where he wouldn't return alive and have the opportunity to ever meet his son and heir, Prince Henry.
Catherine didn't all that much care, though, for the fact that King Henry had his Johanna. Catherine was a girl of 18, after all. King Henry had been fifteen years her senior. He was a kind man to her and both understood there would be no love in their marriage. For they both loved another.
For Henry it was Johanna and for Catherine it was a man of her own household when she came to England. A Welshmen by the name of Owen Tudor.
Only Thomas seemed to know that though. For if anyone found out, little Henry's parentage would be called into question.
Thomas turned his head, sighing at the sight of a nursemaid wearing black as he held Prince Henry in her arms. He was nine-months-old, born six months after his father had left for France. There, King Henry had died of dysentery, which broke the hearts of everyone in England, Thomas most of all.
He had no one left now. He lost his mother. He lost his sister and best friend. And now, he lost his father as well. He had even heard that his Uncle Richard, his mother's brother, was now dead. Of course, he hadn't seen his uncle since his mother's death, but he still loved that man like a second father. He had also drifted from his uncle's only son, Richard, who Thomas and his sister grew up with.
He was utterly alone now. A twelve-year-old bastard son of an English King, living at Westminster, surrounded by ambitious men who ached to quench their thirsts for power. And he knew. He knew they'd seek to use him to their own gain. After all, he might have been a bastard, but there were rumors that his father had the pope legitimize him a month after he had become king, in case he died in France without a legitimate heir. The rumors were true and it meant he was the rightful heir.
And even if Prince Henry had a more legitimate claim because he was the King's lawful son bore by his wife, the Queen, people would always prefer Thomas to him, despite that.
He might have been twelve, but he already had the potential to be a true and respected leader to the people of England. He had learned many great things from his father and mother.
However, even besides that, he had a stronger claim than any around him. He was descended from King Edward III from both his mother and father. His father's grandfather was John of Gaunt and his mother's father was Edmund of Langley, the first Duke of York. He had a claim stronger than anyone around him.
England needed a strong king after the death of the greatest king they had had in centuries. He kept England together, winning them France and security in the realm. With him gone, England was in shambles.
As the prayers came to a stop, Thomas raised his head and made the sign of the cross with his fingers. Now that his father was dead, it meant his younger half brother, who was only nine months old, would become King.
Thomas would, of course, remain at court. He'd be given the Dukedom of Bedford and have more lands gifted to him than anyone his age had ever been given before. It had been his father's dying wish and his father's men loved Henry enough to make sure it came true, even if it wasn't wise to give such a young boy so much power. However, they knew if he was anything like his father, the power would never corrupt him. He would use it to make England better.
And that he would.
Thomas stood up alongside his stepmother. He turned, watching as the Dowager Queen took her son from his nursemaid's arms and held him.
She smiled sadly, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before walking away.
Thomas remained in place, watching each of the lords and ladies that had been standing in the chapel made their departure.
After they were all gone, Thomas took a deep breath and turned to face his father's corpse once more. "I hope you are in heaven, reunited with my lady mother," He spoke up in a calm tone, a solemn look on his face as he placed his hand on his father's, "You may be gone, Father, but you will never be forgotten. Not by me, not by anyone in England. And when I grow older and have children of my own, I shall tell them tales of your victories and triumphs. They will be proud to have such a great king and respectable man as their grandfather."
"My lord," A voice suddenly called out, causing Thomas to turn to see his father's brother, Humphrey, the Duke of Gloucester, standing before him.
Thomas frowned, noticing how his uncle carried three familiar swords in its sheaths. "For what reason do you carry my mother and uncles' swords with you, Uncle?" He asked and his uncle smiled as he held them out to Thomas.
"They are yours, Thomas. When your mother's brother, the Earl of Cambridge died, he left it in his will that his swords would be given to you, the Duke of Bedford. Your mother stated the same. They believe the swords should rightfully go to the sons and heirs of the Dukes of Bedford, starting with you," Humphrey explained in a calm tone.
"The three children of York," Thomas spoke in a soft tone as he took ahold the two swords in their sheaths, "But I am not a York."
"Aye, you are of Lancastrian descent by your father, but York blood runs through your veins as well by your mother," Humphrey explained to the boy, smiling as he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, "But allow me to give you a few words of advice, nephew. In the coming years, you will not be a young man of the House of York. You will be a Lancastrian. Who your mother is descended from is to be of no consequence to you unless it gives you a claim to a throne you want to sit your backside on. You are a bastard. You will never be King, which means who you are descended from by your mother should mean nothing to you or anyone else. With the loss of our beloved King Henry, your father, England will be in turmoil. Some will not want to follow a young and inexperienced king like your brother as you grow older. I will be made Protector of the Realm and your guardian. A day will come where I will die and you shall be there to advise your half brother and ensure that England doesn't fall to ruins by warring sides. Can you do that?"
"Yes, my lord," Thomas responded, nodding his head in agreement.
"Good, because as the Duke of Bedford and the new king's brother, you shall have a seat on the council. In the coming years, I do not want you to take part. I want you to listen and learn, nothing more. See how the men speak. See how they converse of politics. Learn from it. It will help you in the future. You will become wise and knowledgeable from it," He explained, and once more, Thomas nodded in understanding.
He remained silent, listening closely to what his uncle said. He knew better to listen to most of what the man said, remembering how his mother and father had always warned him to be careful of who he trusted and listened to, for everyone had their own ambitions and kingdoms behind their eyes.
_____
Humphrey ended up lifting the crown that once belonged to King Henry, his brother. He bowed before his elder brother, kissing his feet before he walked over and placed it on top of the pillow a servant held out for him. The servant bowed to him, just before walking away without another word said.
With that, he walked over to Thomas and the Duke of Exeter, a shameful expression on his face. "King Henry V...too famous to live long," He began to explain as he walked around them, "England has never had a king of so much worth."
"England never had a king like him until his time," Exeter pointed out as he looked through the window and at their late king's corpse, "Never has there been a time where we had a king quite like him. Like no one before him, he took France back into our grasp, he made this realm prosper, and kept us from civil broils. I pray to God his son is able to do the same."
Hearing footsteps, Thomas turned, watching as a man entered in chainmail. "My lords, I bring tragic news from France. We have experienced a considerable defeat. Paris, Guysors, and Poitiers have been lost."
"I beg your pardon?" Exeter asked, his eyes widening in disbelief as he walked toward the man, "What say you before dead Henry's corpse? Speak softly, for the loss of those great towns will be sure to make him burst his lead and rise from the dead."
"Paris is lost?" Thomas suddenly asked, causing the men to turn to him, "Is Guysors yielded up? If my lord father were to rise from the dead today, he would be sure to drop dead a second time once hearing such news. Tell me, sir. How were these towns lost? Who betrayed us? What treachery was used?"
"No treachery, my lord, but want of men and money," He informed him in a low tone, "Of England's coat, one half is cut away."
"If our king's death was a considerable loss enough to this country, the loss of the towns is something we will never recover from," Thomas confessed and Humphrey turned to him, a disapproving look on his face.
He had been told to listen and learn, not speak. Yet he was doing the opposite. Like his mother, he didn't know or care about when he was or wasn't supposed to speak. He just spoke when he wanted to without a care in the world.
Though like his father and mother, he seemed to know what he was talking about, even at his young age.
"Give me my steeled coat. I'll fight for France," Exeter declared in a determined tone, "Wounds is what I shall give France, nothing less. We shall take back our rightful lands, even if it means we must fight to the death."
"Aye, I agree," Thomas spoke up and the rest of the men immediately agreed as well.
"As we speak of this, I must inform you of the fight for Orleans," The man informed the group in a shameful tone, "Between the lords Talbot and Salisbury and the French. The camp, by night, had already been overrun."
"Talbot slain?" Exeter asked, a concerned look on his face.
"No," He replied, shaking his head, "Talbot lives, but he was forced to flee Orleans."
"I must leave at once, my lords," Exeter spoke up immediately after hearing the news, "Bonfires set in France is what shall I do upon my arrival, to warm our great Saint George's feast. I shall either eliminate the threat that is the Dauphin immediately or bring him in obedience to England. Come."
With that, Exeter left the Abbey with the man who had given them the news. Thomas turned, a determined expression on his face as he turned to his uncle and the Bishop of Winchester, who stood in silence after Exeter had left.
"I shall leave for the Tower," Thomas announced, causing the men to turn to him, "And there, I shall proclaim my half-brother King Henry VI."
The men frowned and before they could argue against the boy doing such a thing, he had already walked away. The men turned to each other and exchanged a look, not knowing whether to feel uneasy about the boy's future or longing for when he came of age.
"He has his mother's wits and courage and his father's mannerisms and determination. He will soon become a man respected by all in Christendom, that I'm certain," The Bishop of Winchester told Humphrey, just before walking away.
____
That night, at the Tower of London, Thomas soon arrived. He walked up the stairs and immediately upon laying eyes on the boy, the two guards stepped out of the way and allowed him through. He bowed his heads at them before walking past them.
It wasn't long before he entered the room where his brother resided. The moment he entered, the infant's nursemaid turned to face Thomas, holding young Henry in his arms.
Immediately upon laying eyes on the young infant, Thomas lowered his head and fell into a kneel. "Your Majesty," He spoke up calmly and the baby began to cry in the nursemaid's arms.
He smiled slightly, standing up before walking over to his brother. "May I hold him?" He asked and the woman nodded, immediately placing the young infant in his half-brother's arms.
Thomas smiled and stared down at the infant, who immediately stopped crying once placed in his brother's arms. He stared up at Thomas, cooing softly. "The men who surround you will try to corrupt you as you grow older, my dear brother. They will try to manipulate you and use you for their own ambition, but I promise you, I shall always be the one you can trust and rely on. They will whisper that I may want to sit upon your throne, but I do not. I only want what is best for this country and I will ensure that you are what England needs. I will help you make England great and prosperous as my mother once did with our father. Have no doubt about that. I will be at your side now and always, against foes seen and unseen. I promise you that, my dear brother."
Thomas lifted his hand and young Henry tightly grabbed ahold of his brother's finger. He cooed, giggling as he placed his brother's finger in his mouth.
Thomas chuckled and shook his head, amused by his brother's actions.
Until Henry's birth, he had been his father's youngest child. He had always been treated as the baby of the family by his father and mother. While Isabella was taught a great deal by their parents directly, it didn't mean Thomas didn't always listen to the lessons anyway and take notes in his mind. Due to all that listening, he knew far more about politics than a person his age ought to know and in truth, it would help him a great deal in the future.
He would be younger than any man standing around him, yet he'd be wiser than them all.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
And so it begins!!
There will be a bit of a time jump next chapter to Henry's coronation. Thomas will be around 18/19 at that time, the same age Nora was at the beginning of Love and War. I just thought it was necessary to start this book off with an introduction like this chapter.