The Tudor Plot: A Cotton Malone Novella Read Online Free PDF

yesterday Henry had been forced to make peace. The terms of surrender required him to place himself in the French king’s hands. He’d also been forced to acknowledge Richard as his sole heir, entitled to inherit all his dominions including England
.
    “Baseborn indeed have my other children shown themselves,” Henry slurred through labored breaths. He then motioned up to Geoffrey. “This alone is my true son.”
    The scribe wrote furiously to memorialize what his sovereign had said. He was aided by Henry’s incessant coughing that seemed to tax whatever strength he still possessed. Droplets of blood spattered from Henry’s parched lips. The scribe wondered what malady had struck this seemingly invincible man
.
    “Now let things go as they may. I care no more for myself or for the world. Shame, shame on a conquered king.”
    The scribe dutifully recorded the lamentations, which sounded like the onset of delirium. Never had he heard Henry speak with such pity. He glanced over at Geoffrey with a look that asked if it was wise to write any of this down
.
    “Do as he wants,” the archbishop mouthed
.
    “I have a message which I desire for you to deliver to my loyal servant Ralph FitzStephen, presently across the sea at Glastonbury Abbey,” Henry said
.
    The scribe brought a fresh sheet of vellum before him and gave his full attention
.
    “Tell him that I have long known the location for Arthur, King of the Britons. The information was bestowed to me by a Welsh bard who provided enough proof that I believed him. The king and his queen lie at Glastonbury. There was once a church of clay and wattles, where is unclear since it was long ago. Beside that church was a graveyard. There, many feet down into earth, they will find a stone slab. Beneath that slab lies the leaden cross for the King of the Britons. Farther down will be the mortal remains of Arthur and his Guinevere. They were placed there with great reverence with the intent they forever remain. Tell FitzStephen that I want the monks to know this and do with the information as they see fit. For, unlike Richard’s, my love for the church and God is absolute.”
    The scribe wrote so quickly that it was difficult to keep ink in the quill
.
    “Let them know that I go to meet my God with a satisfaction that my traitorous son may perhaps meet his match. Bring the bones of the great king back into sunshine. Let them cleanse this world of lies. Use their power wisely.”
    Henry stopped to catch his breath. Sweat poured from his brow, which Geoffrey dabbed with a damp cloth
.
    “Only yesterday, my beloved John, the son I thought above all others would never betray me, turned against me. I can only hope that somewhere within my realm another Arthur might rise and silence the voices of greed and deceit.”
    Henry indicated with a flick of his hand that the message was complete. The scribe wrote the final few words, and the vellum was rolled and sealed with a wax signet
.
    “Go to England. Take my message to Glastonbury with all haste,” Henry said. Then another coughing spell racked his chest
.
    Chills came to his spine each time he read the passage. He’d shared the account with his contact at the
Globe
, who’d been forced to share it with the paper’s publisher. That fool had somehow thought it his duty to inform the palace as to what he’d learned. Why, he didn’t know.
    But that betrayal had required definitive action.
    Which the voice on the phone earlier had provided.
    He could almost see Ralph FitzStephen’s face when, at Glastonbury Abbey, he’d read Henry II’s final words. By then the king was dead, having passed two days after the messenger left Chinon Castle. Henry’s son Richard had immediately claimed the British throne and was busy consolidating power. Glastonbury itself, which represented the heart of English Christendom, awaited its new prior, and a few months later Henry de Sully was appointed to the post by Richard. It was FitzStephen and de