Henry lay on his vast bed, his chaplain beside him murmering prayers. He knew he wasn’t long for this world, he just prayed that his nine year old son Edward would make a good King. The appointed councillors who would serve in the regency council had been picked and he hoped that while his son was still in his minority thy would rule fairly and justly. His need for Edward had been a chord of major grief played repeatedly througout his life, generally with disastorous consequences.

As the old monarch slipped away to the next world his mind roved to his six wives. Devout Katherine, the Boleyn witch who’d caused him so much pain and suffering, wonderful timid Jane, the unpleasant Princess of Cleves, young Katherine Howard and his ever faithful and loving Katherine Parr.

Henry closed his eyes and fell into eternal rest.