Reggie’s side by Lucy Deedes
Henry VIII: It grows dark! Bring candles, men, I can scarce see the posts of the bed.
Reginal FitzUrse: You are almost done, old man. Grow fond of the dark.
H: Who is there, speaking so bold? Come closer, out from the shadows.
RF: Reginald FitzUrse, my lord.
H: I know you, son of a bear. Becket’s executioner. You made him a holy martyr, but I put a stop to that.
RF: You plundered his tomb, certainly. I think that ring on your finger….
H: We should be comrades. You dealt with the man; I dealt with the sainthood gibberish.
RF: I never regretted an action more.
H: Come on, man! You served your King and chopped the fellow down. I like your boldness.
RF: I like it not. I see him still, in my dreams.
H: Begging for mercy, I take it?
RF: Not a bit of it. Proud and full of dignity. We killed him at prayer…no wonder my soul is cursed and will not rest.
H: Who struck the first blow? I enjoy a story of manly fighting.
RF: He was the true man, not us, for there were four of us. I took an axe from a Cathedral workmen, ill-prepared as we were for violence.
H: This is mimsy whimsy talk of guilt. You were a band of soldiers and he a torment to his King. It was his time.
RF: And he knew it. He died like a hero, in the midst of his prayers.
H: Well I too am most devout, as you will know. Many will visit my tomb, and weep for the King I was.
RF: You speak the truth. Some 50,000 souls perished during your reign, yet there are some left to weep.
H: As many as that? Well, a Prince has many battles to fight, you know. They will march, and plot and break the law. The kingdom cannot rule itself.
RF: And somehow you sleep at night. When we set out from Saltwood we meant to bring the Archbishop to justice. There was no thought of murder.
H: Ha! Of course not. A friendly visit, merely. I remember Saltwood. A pretty moated place, not big. Who was your host?
RF: Ranulf do Broc, in my day.
H: Never heard of him. I have better castles than that. I give them as bribes, and sometimes I take them back. It keeps the Dukes alert. Were you rewarded with a castle?
RF: I had my own manor, but gave it to my brother, and St John’s.
H: Chump. I never give anything away.
RF: The Pope gave us absolution, if we would spend our lives in penitence.
H: I’ve no time for Popes or atonement. Stout denial and no apologies, that’s my way.
H: Are you there, FitzUrse, beside me? It grows darker again.
RF: Still here, waiting for your time. Let me settle you in more comfort. A soft pillow…There. And another.
(Henry VIII b. 1491
Reginald FitzUrse b. 1125)
Simon’s comments: An imaginative way of interpreting the brief, this is a conversation between Henry VIII and one of the murderers of Thomas à Becket. What distinguishes it is the questions of morality it raises. Henry VIII, though old and near to death, has no qualms or regrets about his behaviour during his reign. He’s a pragmatist. Yes, domestic enemies were killed, he broke with the Church of Rome, the monasteries were pillaged – but such actions were necessary to keep him on the throne. Reginald FitzUrse is more conflicted. Though Henry approves of his part in the murder, the killer himself is not so sure. Maybe it is the uneasiness in his soul which has prevented him from finding peace in the afterlife and that is why his ghost is making this visitation to the future. The language of the piece is carefully chosen. While not actually being couched in a historic manner (‘gadzookery’), it still avoids aggressive modernisms, which gives credibility to the time-travelling dialogue. I like the unspoken suggestion in this peace that maybe FitzUrse has some kind of redemptive quality, that perhaps his visitation will lead Henry VIII to develop, in the afterlife, the conscience that he never had while alive.