Chapter 181, August 1533
Hertford Castle, Kingdom of England, August 1533
Scarlet red blood covered the right sleeve of her nightgown. The Dowager Queen of England had been coughing into it, not wanting to get the blood everywhere. Her room was dim, dark really, save for the fireplace and some candles. The curtains had all been closed by her ladies, in the hopes that the lack of light would allow her to rest in the middle of the day. It did not, and so Giovanna was utterly exhausted, her illness prevented her from getting any sleep.
It was consumption, her physician, Balthasar Guersye, had informed her. It was the same disease that had killed her husband, Henry some twenty-two years ago. Giovanna of Naples had hoped that she would not die as he had, but even she couldn’t deny that she was sicker than she ever was as an adult. The woman pondered her life, and how she would feel if this was the end. Her children had their positions and were secure in them. The letters she received from Catherine and Joanna always lightened her mood, and the visits to Charles and Anne left her elated. She had her grandchildren and knew they were all happy. It wasn’t enough though, Giovanna wanted to live to see them marry, to see them grow into adulthood. She was fifty-five and while she supposed she had a good life; this wasn’t how she wanted it to end. Giovanna was going to die alone, she was sure. One of her ladies had a note sent to Hatfield, to inform her son, but perhaps it would not make it there on time. So, the priest had given her last rites, and she had confessed her sins. Only, she hadn’t been completely honest in her confession. Giovanna had only disclosed that she had been engaged in adultery during her widowhood, and not with whom. The priest seemed surprised he told her that much, but he told her she’d likely be absolved for confessing. That had been enough for her, though she wondered if it would be enough for God... In any case, Giovanna supposed it hardly mattered, it wasn’t as if she could change God’s judgment. So, she laid back, resting her shoulders and head on the pillows, waiting. Of course, the thing people never told her was that as much as one feels they may die soon, it is not always the case. So, she lingered on, perhaps for another hour, and it was then that a figure entered the room.
It was her son, her boy, her Charles. His gaze lowered to where she laid, and he blinked in disbelief,”Mother?”
“Charles?” Giovanna gasped,”You really came?”
He took some cautious steps toward her, narrowly avoiding one of her chairs,”I left within the hour that I got the letter… I was worried I wouldn’t arrive in time.”
“You’re here and you weren’t too late. I am so happy I can see you one last time.”
He knelt by the foot of her bed and looked up at her, his brown eyes brimmed with tears, the man of twenty-four almost sounded like a little boy,”What are we going to do? What am I going to do, mother?”
“Oh, Charles. My poor boy. I do not want you to mourn me too much. I want you to remember the happy times we had as a family. I want you to continue being the perfect husband and father that you are. Anne and the children will be there for you, and you must cling to them as I have you and your sisters. Now come here and give me a hug, I am feeling a little better for seeing you.”
She wasn’t sure if that was exactly true, but she had coughed less and less since she saw her son again. The Duke of Somerset strode over to her and wrapped her arms around her, firmly grasping her sagged shoulders as he did so,”Thank you, Mother. For raising Catherine, Joanna, and I as you have. You gave us the best of childhoods, and we will never forget it. We will always love you.”
Giovanna of Naples smiled, My Charles was always such a good boy, now he has grown to be a fine man. She started coughing again, this time into her chest, and hugging her son as if doing so would keep her alive. There was an irony to it, she supposed. She held her children as they entered the world, and now her son held her as she was dying.
The woman wanted to hold on, to live, but the coughing, the blood, and now the pain in Giovanna’s chest was too much, too much…
