Divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived...Yeah right. This is the story that History forgot...
Divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived…. Yeah right. What a load of shit.
The Tudor period. 1485-1603.
History books and teachers will tell you that this one man, one of the most well known, and powerful (not to mention nasty, most bloodthirsty monarchs in British history) was Henry the eighth. He married six times, and had two wives executed, possibly over false accusations of adultery. Well this is the story of a different man, by a different name, but who lived by the same power hungry and selfish rules. The one that history has long forgotten, Frank Iero...
I was fed up, I was sick of it all. I had everything, money, stunning, expensive treasures, beautiful women, everything. I was the king; I was the most important man in the country. I decided who lived and who was not fit to. But despite all of my riches and good fortune, I was lonely. I had just watched the lifeless body of my wife being taken away, from out of my bedroom window was not grieving of course, it was I who had ordered her execution to take place, but I just could not understand it. I was very unlucky with wives and women you see. My marriages to them never seemed to last too long, none of them could seem to keep my interest. Of course, this had led to people saying horrid thongs about me; I was not particularly liked by many, not that it bothered me too much... Around the country I was known as a power hungry, bloodthirsty, mean man, who didn’t have a nice bone in my body. I found his hurtful but couldn’t really disagree with them.
My first wife, my brother’s widow, Catherine of Aragon, was beautiful, and everyone complimented us on how happy we were. We even had a child together, but it was only a girl. She was not fit to rule after me, woman did not become rulers, they gave birth and did not speak unless spoken to. My second wife, Anne, was also stunning, but she too only produced a girl. I had her beheaded some time ago now. My third was Jane Seymour, we got on well, she was polite and did as she was told. Sadly, she died after giving birth to the son I had desperately wanted for so long. I grieved for a while, though I don’t think it was because I truly cared for her. I stayed unmarried for some time after that, spending time with Edward, my son. (Mary and Elizabeth were kept away at other royal palaces, they were not fit to rule, so I felt no need to have them with me) but I did eventually marry my fourth wife, and she was dreadful. Her name was Anne of Cleaves. We divorced quickly and I married my recently beheaded wife, Catherine Howard.
I couldn’t understand why I was so unlucky. I just didn’t seem to be able to find someone I truly cared for, I never loved any of the woman I married. But I had to have an heir to carry on ruling after my death, and Edward was a sickly child. The reason why I was so unlucky was a puzzling mystery to me, it wasn’t for lack of trying to find love. I just did not see the appeal of any of the girls I encountered. They were pleasant enough, pretty too, I suppose, but there was nothing there, no spark, no anything.
“sire?” a man , one I knew well, one of my servants, knocks once on the heavy oak door and enters, head bowed. It was not polite to look me, the ruling monarch in the eye, unless spoken to.
“Yes, Raymond?” I reply in a lazy tone, I was not particularly interested in what my adviser had to say to me, not today at least.
“I appreciate how Catherine’s execution must be affecting you, my lord, but-“
“I never cared for the girl, everyone knows that. Please do not make it sound as though I did.”
“Yes sir, so terribly sorry sire.” He looks up at me, asking silently for permission to speak. I nod once, barely lowering my head, granting it.
“A very young, pretty girl`s father has voiced his interest of having her married off to you, sire. I have not seen her myself, but she is a princess from a foreign country, France and Bo-Robert has met with the family and has told me of her beauty. Shall tell them you are interested in meeting with her or not, sire?” I give him a look, one he knew well. It basically said “what do you think, stupid”
“No then, of course sire. Sorry, I`ll be going now, unless I am needed of course.” I shake my head, feeling tired, I had trouble sleeping, I worried a lot you see. It had been an awful lot of trouble to get the church to allow me to marry and divorce so many times, I had been forced to take drastic measures, and I couldn’t help but wonde4r if I had done the right thing sometimes.
“Raymond, wait.” I stop him, and he re-enters the room.
“Yes, sir?” he looks confused.
“I wish to take a walk.”
“No, no, please. NO Don`t! I`m sorry, I didn’t mean- I had no choice. My mother is ill and my younger brother-“
“Save it thief.” Around me I can hear and see people gathering round, not wanting to miss anything. A rather large crowd made of mainly of men and some women, was starting to gather, all jeering at me, taunting me, yelling harsh words.
My pale arms are held tightly behind my back as I am led forwards to where he was stood, branding iron in hand. I had been caught stealing you see, there were many punishments for thief’s here, branding was one of them. Others were having your hand cut off, even hanging in some cases. I was being let of lightly, I suppose. I can feel hot stinging tears beginning to form in my greeny, hazel eyes, but they will not fall, I will not allow myself to cry. They will not have the satisfaction, I was a grown man, and men did not cry, crying was a sign of weakness. And I Gerard Way was anything but weak.
The jeering grows louder as more people arrive. We were all a sick lot really, we enjoyed others pain, watching an execution was considered a fun day out, disgusting, I prayed that in the future things would change. It most certainly wouldn’t happen under our current king`s rule though. Frank Iero the 8th as a cruel, heartless man.
“Ha ha, thief. Bet ya wish you never stole from me, eh?!” I sigh. Thieving was bad, I knew that. I didn’t think I was a bad person though, I was desperate. I had no choice. We were very poor; I had to look after my younger brother, Michel as our loving mother was sick. This meant I couldn’t do much work, and stayed to look after her a lot. We were only trying to get by.
A hush falls over the town square, out of the corner of my eye I see someone, a rather short man, dressed in rich clothing, approach, a look of disgust on his face. I didn’t know why. His face was hidden slightly by his dark hair, and he was too far away from me for me to see him clearly anyway.
Everyone bows down and I realise with a sickening feeling in my stomach who this man was. Maybe I wouldn`t be so lucky after all. The king hated thieves, I was dead for sure.
When Frank opens his mouth to speak I expect him to order my death, or for a nasty comment to come out of it, but it doesn’t, much to my surprise.
“STOP! I ORDER YOU TO STOP! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE YOU DOING?!”
so...how was it?