Groom of the Stool: Heinous History, #4

Chapter One: The Throne Behind the Throne

The smell was biblical .

Thomas Piers knelt behind the velvet-draped screen, a silver basin poised in one hand, a dampened cloth of Flemish linen in the other. The King of England, Defender of the Faith, and self-appointed head of the Church groaned like a dying ox.

God's wounds, Piers, Henry barked, his voice strained. What did we eat yesterday?

Thomas cleared his throat. Your Majesty enjoyed three courses of venison, a swan stuffed with four doves, half a boar's head, and seventeen different sweetmeats sent by the French ambassador.

Another grunt from the royal stool, followed by a splatter that made Thomas wince. The King's diet consisted primarily of meat and megalomania, neither of which passed easily through the royal digestive tract.

Ah, feels like the ambassador himself is passing through me, Henry said with a laugh that turned into a grunt. Is there blood, Piers? Check for blood.

Thomas dipped his head. At once, Your Majesty.

This was his domain, this screened alcove within the King's Privy Chamber where the most intimate of royal functions took place. The Groom of the Stool was more than a servant; he was the keeper of secrets that would make even Cardinal Wolsey blush. The only man in England trusted to approach the royal posterior with both cloth and discretion.

When Henry finished, Thomas stepped forward, eyes carefully averted as he presented the cloth. The King took it with a grunt.

The chamber pot, Piers. Let me see.

Thomas proffered the silver vessel, positioning it so the light from the nearby window illuminated its contents. Henry VIII, the most feared monarch in Christendom, peered at his own excrement with the scrutiny of an alchemist studying gold.

Dark today. Too dark. Henry frowned. The physicians say darkness means melancholy bile. Write it in the book.

Yes, Your Majesty. Thomas recorded it in the leather-bound journal that tracked the King's bodily functions. It was a text more closely guarded than the royal treasury.

Henry rose, allowing Thomas to adjust his undergarments and elaborate robes. It was an intimacy that wives didn't share, that princes couldn't buy.

Who awaits us today? Henry asked, straightening his massive frame.

Ambassador Chapuys seeks audience regarding the Spanish concerns by, Your Majesty. Master Cromwell has papers requiring your seal. And... Thomas hesitated, knowing how volatile the King had been lately. The Duke of Suffolk mentioned stopping by with news of the Queen's household.

At the mention of Queen, Henry's face darkened. Anne Boleyn, once the obsession that had driven him to break with Rome, was now merely the Queen, and even that