Author: D & M. Pearson, Word Count: 431
Featured in Spooky Archaeological Story Moot: Live Stream – 2024
It was a cold , frosty and dark night in January 1547.King Henry was stirred from his sleep by the gentle rustle of hushed footsteps seemingly circling his grand Hampton Court Palace bedchamber.
Henry slowly opened his eyes. Was it a dream? Could there be a light footed intruder planning about to attack the king? Baffled and worried, Henry sheepishly opened his eyes a little. Just enough to glance about the bed. Gentle moonlight cast around the room, and nothing more to see.
“Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!” Henry’s heart throbbed in his ears.. or could it be the quickening of heavier footsteps approaching? Henry attempted to sit up in bed. Ginger and slow through fear and the sudden stabbing pain in his legs which Henry tried to clutch at. Wet, hot and sticky ooze from his wounds was all that Henry could feel. The ulcers were getting worse. “My bad legs are disturbing me and giving me nightmares!” Henry thought to himself. He lay awake that night, and rose early the following morning as he was to inspect the armoury at the Tower of London. War with France was looming and England must be prepared.
Henry walked tentatively across the stableyard. Each horse glanced at Henry as he passed by them. “Inquisitive horses acknowledging their king” Henry thought. Whilst continuing to feel baffled and a little perplexed by the previous night’s events, Henry remembered his comments regarding Anne Boleyn resembling a horse and how unfair in the horses it was! Chin to chest, Henry continued his amble through the stable yard and onto the armoury. His walk impeded by sudden bouts of that stabbing pain to his pustulous legs… Pausing briefly in hope of easing the pain, that familiar thud of footsteps throughout his head returned.. Henry hoped it was nothing more than his unfit pulse racing through his head, just like last night.
Coming to his height, sudden silence. No throb of footsteps. Nothing. Henry glanced about. Every single steed had turned midnight black and every one of their faces was disgustingly, unflinchingly and judgingly contorted to glare at the ruthless, self serving and murderous king. Sudden noise from above broke the gaze. Pale, pained and drained, Henry attempted to look toward to noise overhead. Boxes containing arrows were rattling slowly, then quickly. A low rattling hum to a many loud, repeating bangs of wooden doors at full force slam.
In a daze punctuated with stabs of pain, Henry began to realise that this was an enemy who he could not frighten, change or murder..
Well.. not again anyway.
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