Chapter 333: That Letter Could Wound Him
"Yes." Livia said excitedly.
"That letter could wound him."
"It may save him. Henry needs to be the one to act. If the king brings this forward himself, he controls the truth before the truth is used against him."
"The witchcraft rumour can be used against you now, my lady," he said. "It may delay the proceedings."
"If I know the king quite well, he will not allow it."
"And if the Church insists?"
"Then the Church will discover that Henry is a very difficult man to corner when he has decided something belongs to him."
Lionel was not entirely reassured. At last, he bowed.
"I shall ride for Whitehall at once."
"Thank you," she said. "Thank you so much."
*****
Henry walked back to his privy lodgings immediately after Lionel left Whitehall. His mind was not on council matters now. His thoughts had fixed on one thing.
Stephen, who had been beside him through more years than Henry cared to count had apparently concealed pieces of Henry’s life.
Instead of going to his own chamber, Henry turned down the narrower passage that led towards Stephen’s room.
The guard behind him hesitated for half a breath, then followed. Stephen’s chamber was not grand. It did not need to be. A bed stood along one wall. A table held a trimmed candle, a folded cloth, and several small items. There was nothing dramatic about the room.
That, Henry thought, was exactly why a secret might have survived there. He opened the door and stepped inside.
The room was empty. That, at least, was not surprising. Stephen always found something to do. What Henry did find strange, though, was not Stephen’s absence.
It was the sudden realisation that Stephen’s life contained doors Henry had never opened. He had thought he knew him.
And now Lionel had told him there was a letter hidden in Stephen’s chamber. A letter tied to his brothers. To his mother.
Stephen had kept that too. Henry turned back to the guard standing just outside the door.
"Find my valet," he said.
The guard bowed. "At once, Your Majesty." He hurried away.
Henry remained where he was and looked around. Lionel had told him where to search, but knowing that something existed and finding it were two different matters. The wall looked ordinary. The brickwork sat in plain sight. He walked closer and placed his hand against the wall. He moved slowly along it, running his fingers over the lines between the bricks, feeling for looseness, anything that suggested one piece did not belong as firmly as the others.
Stephen had kept this from him. Stephen, who had seen him claw through guilt for years. Stephen, who had watched him punish himself in silence.
Henry’s fingers continued along the wall. The door opened. Stephen stepped in quickly, no doubt summoned from some other duty.
"Your Majesty," Stephen said.
Henry turned to look at him. "Stephen."
Stephen bowed. "Sire, did you need something?"
"It just occurred to me, Stephen," Henry said, "that I do not know you at all."
Stephen’s brows drew together. "Sire?"
"Your ability to keep secrets is astounding." Henry stepped away from the wall. "I did not think you capable of it. I thought you were like every other servant, gossiping after each day’s work."
"I do find time to do that too."
"And yet, for years, you have successfully kept two great secrets even from me," Henry said.
"Two?" Stephen stammered. "I do not... two?"
"First," Henry said, "about my madness."
"Sire—"
Henry lifted a hand, cutting him off. "And now I discover you hold something else. Something inside your walls."
The confusion vanished, and in its place came recognition.
"Lord Ashcroft told you," Stephen said.
"Yes. On Livia’s instruction."
That startled Stephen more. Henry smiled. Everyone kept forgetting Livia was becoming queen.
Stephen lowered his gaze. "My lord, I meant no harm by it. I feared what might come of the rumours."
"The witchcraft rumours?"
"Yes."
"I heard about those too." Henry’s jaw tightened. "Apparently, I intend to marry a sorceress. How fortunate for England. Perhaps she will turn my mother into a tolerable woman."
"That would require darker magic than any bishop could survive."
"I commend your loyalty, Stephen," Henry said quietly. "I do. But some battles are mine to fight. I have the ultimate power in England. If I choose to marry a witch, it is my choice."
"Of course, my lord."
"And if any cleric, or self-important fool wishes to argue, he may do so before me."
Stephen bowed his head. "Yes, sire."
Henry took one step closer. "The letter, Stephen."
"My lord," Stephen said softly, "it would be better if you did not read its contents."
"Was that what worried you so terribly that you had to keep it from me? You thought it would cripple my mind?"
Stephen’s face tightened. "Mostly that. There were other reasons." He drew in a careful breath. "I knew that, in the beginning, you did not want the throne. You never wanted it. I feared...that if you had the letter, if you saw everything plainly written and sealed in your mother’s hand, you might use it as a reason to abdicate."
"And here I thought your concern was solely for me."
"Always for you, sire," Stephen said. "But I did put England into consideration," he smiled a little.
"That letter could have cost you your life if my mother had known you possessed it," Henry said.
"I know," Stephen said. "I had no intention of letting any living soul know of it. Truly, sire. It was meant to remain hidden. Once...I even tried to burn it. I took it out. I had the candle ready. I thought if the letter were gone, then perhaps the danger would be gone with it. No one could use it against you. I don’t know why I didn’t."
Stephen drew a breath. "Then Lady Livia came along. At first, I thought she was another complication," he admitted. "A pretty one, certainly. Then I watched her become the only person who could make Your Majesty breathe like a man. I thought perhaps that someday the letter might become useful. Not to harm you. Never that. But to protect her from Her Grace if the need became desperate enough."