A dispense

[Oznerol]

The duke of Surrey had been released from captivity. He had been ready to die, but that fate avoided him, and after bending a knee he was acknowledged as a peer of the realm by the new king. King. That word tasted bitter in his mouth. A man of true convictions would have refused Bolingbroke, but he was weaker than a man of firm believes, and he had no desire to become a martyr or die for a cause. If world changes, you must change with it, or die. Still, he had little love for a man who had usurped his uncle's crown. But little can a single man, no matter how rich or powerful, do against the whole realm. Oddly, Thomas Holland only had an idea in mind when he crossed the gateway into Talworth, his favored manor and residence. An idea so firmly rooted on his hear he feared could become an obsession. He climbed the stairs two steps a time, dismissing servants, pages and inquisite knights as he walked through the manor. He had to get rid of his wife, that had only brought him childless misery. A woman he hated. With ink and parchment, he readied himself, laying down his thoughts wouldn't be that hard, he hoped, while the clean surface stared back at him. He later had a priest translate his words into Latin.

To His Holiness, Pope Bonifatius Nonus, Bishop of Rome,

I beseech your help, a poor soul trapped in the misery of a miserable marriage. My wife, whom I married by my father's command, as I wasn't of age, is barren, her womb unable to bear children. Long I wondered, Holy Father, why this marriage bore no fruits, only death, and I found the answer in mine heart, in prayer: we are cousins, share the blood of England's kings, and thus is God's will that her belly was rendered infertile. Chained to such a wife, who I have no love for, only Christian affection, I suffer greatly, and God knows I prayed for long to find another solution, but there is not any. Father, guide of Christendom, I beg your Holiness to break the bounds of holy matrimony between myself and Constance of York, to break the sterile bounds that bind us so sadly. An annulment. It pains me to plead for this case, but there will be no joy in my life until I can live separated from that woman, who only harbors ill-intent towards me and has only brought me suffering, that I endured for a long time.

A pious, gentle, Christian soul beseechs your help,

Given at Talworth, day of Saint Anthony, anno domini 1399,

Thomas de Holland, Duke of Surrey, Earl of Kent, etc, rex nepotis.

(SIGNED AND SEALED)

[Dirty Chai]

[1-5 is a no, 6-20 is a yes
-10 from Constance being of such heritage (granddaughter of Edward III and Peter the Cruel, -5 each)
-1 from being Holland having the Choleric (Bloodthirsty) temperament
Chance of no boosted to 16/20
Rolled 17.]

The Holy Father in Rome, Boniface the Ninth, replies, along with a formal missive in archaic Latin, that Thomas de Holland's request is granted, and extrapolates that the marriage should never have taken place originally since such a marriage would be in a break to the laws of the church. Because of the circumstances, no party can reasonably be held responsible and the Pope declares the marriage hereby annulled without further issue. However, Thomas de Holland is required to seek further Papal support for his future marriages, lest they come under God's ire as well.

[Oznerol]

It finally arrived. A beautiful white parchment, a fine vellum that was used by the papal chancellery. What he had sought for a long time, had arrived.

"The annulment! Yes! God be witness of this gracious day!"

He addresses one of his servants.

"Send word to Lady Constance, she shall be hastily returned to her brother. At once"

"Yes sire"

"And saddle my horse, call Sir Hugh and Peter, prepare a party of riders, we have to seek a new bride"

"As you wish"

He had given much thought to that matter. He needed a wife, a woman grown, of sufficient status and proven virtue. And not related to him, at all. Not within the prohibited degree.

----------------

Soon thereafter, Thomas Holland, duke of Surrey, arrived to the doorstep of Lady FitzWalter, nee de Mohun, in Roydon, Essex's. She was a young widow, fertile as she had fathered a son with Lord FitzWalter who was of young age. A heiress on her own right, despite her mother's mismanegement and erratic governance of her father's lands. With the white hart pending from a jewelled collar, he requested to see Lady Philippa.

[Dirty Chai]

The widow FitzWalter was the object of many suitors, so the appearance of yet another was met with some obstacles and skeptical servants. Once they knew of Surrey's intention at Roydon, a footman told him he could be allowed to stay in the guest wing and that he could join the FitzWalter family for supper - this on account of his rank, likely. A Duke at your door..

It was a small household. The Baron FitzWalter was dead, so his coat of arms hung above them ominously; his son was a sliver a boy, perhaps ten years of age now. Philippa was a red haired woman - like auburn bark or a shade of wine - and dressed in a dark dress. There was naught else but a few stewards and some respectable yeomen to accompany her. She was in her late youth - 27 for to be exact.

[Oznerol]

Surrey appeared wearing a green doublet, close-fit around his slim chest and narrow wraist. He was far more nimble than his stout father, as he quite resembled Lady Alice FitzAlan, instead of the swarthy and short-limbed Thomas Holland. A jewelled and enamelled white hart badge pending from a golden chain. He wears several rings, including one inlaid with an emerald. His cold, blue eyes stared at Lady Philippa intensely.

"My Lord and Lady FitzWalter"

He saluted.

"Glad to be so eagerly welcomed into your presence and invited for supper, none less"

[Dirty Chai]

"And we are pleased to be honored by your presence," the widow countered, though dryly.

Philippa had a richly resonant voice for a woman, but her pronunciation and annunciation was precise and pleasing to the ear, in a way. Walter was red-haired like his mother, but it was known that his father was not - she had strong blood, then.

"Lord Holland" the precocious boy spoke up, "Your uncle is the king?"

He frowned and corrected himself with a more hushed voice, "was the king?"

It was a blunder, clearly, but no one stopped or chided the boy - Philippa believed you had to let a child make mistakes for the man to learn.

[Oznerol]

"Yes"

He said, laconic, holding back a more aggressive reply. He noticed Lady Philippa's unusual voice. She was a grown woman, God, and not a meek child. He appreciated that.

"God's will is, indeed, inscrutable, my Lord"

He ordered some wine to be poured in his coup.

"Alas, I'm no longer a king's nephew, but still a duke"

Holland eyed Lady Philippa subtly.

"God preserve King Harry"

He looked a bit sour.

[Dirty Chai]

"God save the king," echoed everyone, with the boy last, all raising their cups into the air.

The meal commenced and it was some minutes before the Duke was included in conversation again.

"How old are you, my lord Holland?" lady FitzWalter asked, aggressive and without any shyness or embarrassment.

[Oznerol]

"I've seen twenty five summers, my Lady"

He replied. Food at FitzWalter's table was sufficient, but nothing all too fancy. Tasteful, but not elegant. Thomas feared he could stain his fine doublet with the sauce; he wanted to make a good impression.

[Dirty Chai]

She made an accusatory sort of expression, eyeing her food - which she hadn't eaten much of.

"You have no sons, no? You're still quite young."

Philippa noted his age, she had two years on him.

"You could seek a younger bride, with no children." She looked at little Walter quite appreciatively for a moment.

"But you're here, my lord.. seeking a widow, no less." Philippa smiled at him wryly.. "oh so scandalous"

[Oznerol]

"God didn't bless me with any, my Lady"

He said, with a sorrowful smile.

"Why would I seek a nubile girl? Why? When I could settle, instead, with a woman grown, a lady of proven virtue, a mother"

With Philippa, he could be certain she could father children, as she had a son already.

"I care little about your widowhood, my lady. Moreso when your beauty must be source of many envies among the peerage"

He knew Philippa's parents had took great pains to be acknowledged as part of the elite, the peerage, even had comissioned laudatory works.

[Dirty Chai]

"So it's true, then," she looked at her son, who seemed ambivalent about the idea of his mother marrying again.

De Mohun put a hand to her son's hair, adjusting it obsessively.

"The holy father annulled your marriage with the Duke of York's sister?"

Philippa eyed him, fairly sure she had him figured out already.

[Oznerol]

"Yes, she has already been returned to the noble duke of York"

He smiled, faintly. Thomas looked at the FitzWalter son, that boy would be in need of a warden to administrate his estates... Just another reason to marry her. Surrey was already a bit mesmerized with the red-haired, strong woman.

"There isn't a better match in the whole realm, my Lady, than you"

[Dirty Chai]

"How generous of you to say," she waved with a smile. One of the stewards aptly began up a change of topic, about horses. He loved horses apparently. No one else at the table did, but it was an intentional way to fill the time between them. Supper was soon over.

The young lord stood up first, then his mother, and then the household. Little FitzWalter walked over to his guest and offered a hand to exchange a gesture.

"It has been nice to meet with you, my lord of Surrey," the little boy parroted taught words quite well, "But I must now retire."

[Oznerol]

"A pleasure to meet you, my Lord"

He exchanged the usual pleasantries. Surrey had been sick to death of horses' anecdotes, fortunately someone started talking about hunting boars right before the supper ended. Once FitzWalter left, Surrey turned to his mother.

"My lady, I didn't lie. I won't lie. I seek your hand: I wish to marry you and make you my duchess"

Surrey was slightly nervous.

"I cannot remain without a wife and I have found none as fitting, my Lady"

Kent's estates were close to Lady Mohun's. He had heard about Lady Joan de Mohun, Philippa's aged mother, being in financial trouble since her husband died, or even before that. Surrey was wealthy enough to correct that.

"I don't lack wealth or influence and I could put them to good use, Lady FitzWalter. I could ensure the well-being of your son, his estates and your own lands"

[Dirty Chai]

She listened to him curiously, running two of her fingers along the edge of the table, back and forth.

"Come, lord Surrey," she said, chidingly but with a smile, "You must have something more interesting to talk about."

The red-haired widow raised a hand and snapped her fingers, calling back a servant to pour wine. This, all while the rest of the household departed the small dinner hall, leaving the lady FitzWalter and the Duke mostly alone. Philippa leaned forward then, resting her suddenly excited face against a clasped set of hands, resting her elbows on the arms of her chair.

"Tell me, when were you married to lady Constance?" she asked, quite interested, with wily smile.

[Oznerol]

Oh, interesting.

Surrey was even more piqued by Lady Mohun's behavior.

"Seven years ago, but it soon proved disastrous; she was pregnant but the boy died inside her womb"

He said, bitterly.

"My first son was born... blue. Strangled"

Surrey remembered, sorrowful.

"I had never felt such an intense pain. But we were young, thought we could have many more. Alas, just dreams. He would have been a boy of almost six years"

[Dirty Chai]

"Oh," de Mohun frowned, pitying the young man. "You poor man,"

Still curious, though, for some reason.

"Did she make you happy, at least? I'm sure a granddaughter of two kings must be very beautiful,"

[Oznerol]

"She made me feel miserable"

He said, sincerely.

"Constance holds herself in high steem. She blamed myself for the death of our children, and worse, was a spoiled, unruly girl, as wild as her mother Isabella"

[Dirty Chai]

"No pleasantness?" Philippa looked dismayed.

"You poor man," she said again, "It sounds like you were forced into an unhappy marriage,"

de Mohun smiled again though. "But the holy father is kind,"