A Boy for Henry

Henry Tudor had just come in from riding when he got the summons: his father wished to see him, immediately. He shrugged, sent the page away with a smile, and went upstairs to change. He'd long ago stopped running every time the King got it in his head to order his presence. Whatever it was could wait till he'd bathed and robed.

Satisfied with his appearance, the Prince entered his father's presence without a hint of unease, despite the old man's dour expression. "You take your time about answering me," his Highness King Henry VII growled.

"And you to say your meaning, my Lord King," his son replied. "But I trust you'd not want the stink of my horse about you while we both waited?"

"Your sister has born a son." Seeing the younger man's stares, the King smiled. "And we have an even larger miracle: the ceasing of your waggish tongue."

Henry ignored the jibe and offered his heartfelt appreciation for the child. His father began explaining the festivities to ensue, the messages to be sent, and the power to be gained, but he interrupted, "I will go and see them."

The King stopped midsentence. "No, you will not. Tis better for them to come to us."

"You expect my proud brother-in-law to bow at your feet?"

"I expect he will come eventually, and we will greet him in a position of power."

"I want to see the boy, and my sister, and so I will go. You are of course welcome to stay here." He left before his father could protest further.

It took some doing on the Prince's part, but eventually he had his way, as usual. The journey was quick and uneventful, pleasant weather even for winter. He grinned as he rode up to the ancient castle, one that sneered at the thought of the young upstart family so recently grafted into its own.

"Look you there, men," he called to his soldiers. "Has not my sister scaled a great tower?"

His ribald humor earned the laughter he wished, and the English entered in such a good mood that their hosts could not help but smile with them, preventing the usual cultural and linguistic strife that could mar such a visit. Henry fell back on his Latin like a good Churchman, and was led at once to his sister.

She looked well, he was glad to see. "Oh, Henry, how good to see you!" she clapped her hands.

"And I you," he laughed. "Have you grown yet more? How can your husband stand you?"

"Simple: he remains astride, I below. Surely you must know how that works, brother?"

"Aye, and I will believe it when I see my nephew."

She led him to the nursery, where the nursemaid was just finishing her duties. "It is a good strong face," he commented.

"And by that you mean an English one," she teased, "but you are kind not to cause offense."

"I leave it to our father to do such things."

"The charming Henry," she agreed. "I hope the boy will take after his godfather rather than his grandfather: pious and kind, and happy."

Little Henry yawned his appreciation, and his uncle grinned wide at the sight.

"My dearest Matilda, with such a namesake, I hope I may always be the man you think me. Now, is there any decent beer in this Spanish castle?"

Point of departure: Arthur Tudor is instead born a girl and marries the 2nd Duke of Segorbe, great-grandson of the King of Aragorn. Henry VIII is always the crown prince and heir to the English throne. Catherine of Aragon marries an Italian prince and lives happily ever after with lots of children.