York Castle, England. 30th of August, 1540.
"Sire, I strongly advise you to think of this matter," Thomas Cromwell said, leaning over him. "Europe is changing and England must change with it."
John leaned back in his chair, clutching his hands over his stomach. He read over the papers before him, the documents detailing the large-scale corruption that seemed to have overtaken the monasteries of his country. Nuns supporting their bastards, monks paying whores with rosaries and tithe's money. It all seemed well-worded, and convincing. As if John was a man easily swayed, as if he was his father, who would follow the way of whoever last spoke to him.
Lord Grey, who had received the viscountcy of his mother after the death of his stepfather, leaned forward. John had known John Dudley, his namesake, since he was a young boy. Lord Grey was his mother’s man, had become fond and more fond of Thomas Cromwell, and they became some sort of allies. At least, when it came to religious reform.
“There is a common saying that if the abbot of Glastonbury married the abbess of Shaftesbury, their heir would have more land than the king of England, Your Majesty,” he said and John had to admit that it picked his interest. He didn't like the idea of anyone holding more land than him. “If the King were to confiscate some of their lands due to corruption, he would gain even more wealth.”
“But I don’t wish to appear impious,” John admitted in a low voice. “If we were to look too closely into the monasteries, they would surely call me illborn.” And his father would never approve it, the King was sure. His blessed father was too pious to allow such a thing.
“Not with the Pope’s approval, Your Majesty,” Thomas Cromwell said slowly. “By sending an embassy to Rome, and convincing the Pope of the urgent need for reform in England, we would surely bear his seal when it comes to our investigations.”
John rapped his fingers against his table, thinking deeply. He might have reached a conclusion, or at least asked more questions so as to reach one, but the door suddenly opened, startling them three. His heart was racing as John looked at the entrance, the small brown-haired woman bouncing inside with a large smile.
“John!” Kitty exclaimed, beaming, her face flushed with pleasure. Behind her, one of his grooms stood with an apologetic gaze.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” he began, “I tried to tell her you were busy, but…”
John waved him away. “Leave us, all of you,” he said impatiently. When they were truly alone, he turned to his disobedient, and bothersome, wife. “Kitty, I have told you…!”
“I did not bleed this month,” she said, interrupting him. John felt the words die at his throat. “Nor the two months past.” She took his hand, interlacing their fingers so as to bring his palm to the low of her stomach. Kitty wore such rich and voluminous skirts that he could not say if there was any growth underneath it, but for her face, and the words she spoke, he was more than certain. “I believe that I am with child.”
“Three months without your courses?” he asked and she nodded, tears brimming her eyes. “Wh-why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to cause any alarm without reason,” she responded with a pout. “Have I upset His Majesty?”
“Upset me?” He grabbed her face, planting a hard kiss on her mouth. “Kitty, you have just made me the happiest man in history!”
A child. They were going to have a child!