In this extraordinary historical novel, the New York Times bestselling author hailed as “the finest historian of English monarchical succession writing” ( The Boston Globe ) explores the private side of the legendary King Henry VIII and his dramatic and brutal reign. “A delightful yarn . . . an all-around fun read about a king and a cad.”— Kirkus Reviews (starred review) Having completed her Six Tudor Queens series of novels on the wives of Henry VIII—extensively researched and written from each queen’s point of view—Alison Weir now gives Henry himself a voice, telling the story of his remarkable thirty-six-year reign and his six marriages. Young Henry began his rule as a magnificent and chivalrous Renaissance prince who embodied every virtue. He had all the qualities to make a triumph of his kingship, yet we remember only the violence. Henry famously broke with the Pope, founding the Church of England and launching a religious revolution that divided his kingdom. He beheaded two of his wives and cast aside two others. He died a suspicious, obese, disease-riddled autocrat. His reign is remembered as one of dangerous intrigue and bloodshed—and yet the truth is far more complex. The King’s Pleasure brings to life the idealistic monarch who expanded Parliament, founded the Royal Navy, modernized medical training, composed music and poetry, and patronized the arts. A passionate man in search of true love, he was stymied by the need to produce a male heir, as much a victim of circumstance as his unhappy wives. Had fate been kinder to him, the history of England would have been very different. To his contemporaries, Henry was a great king, a legend in his own lifetime. And he left an extraordinary legacy—a modern Britain. “Weir takes the abundant history and weaves imagined conversations and motivations into a delightful yarn. . . . An all-around fun read about a king and a cad.” — Kirkus Reviews (starred review) “Weir meticulously illustrates [Henry VIII’s] significant relationships with not just his six wives but also his political allies and rivals and such shrewd advisers. . . . This believable tale is a solid choice for historical fiction devotees.” — Booklist “The background research is formidable. . . . An impressive piece of work and very subtly done.” — Historical Novel Society Alison Weir is the New York Times bestselling author of The Last White Rose and the novels in the Six Tudor Queens series: Katharine Parr, The Sixth Wife ; Katheryn Howard, The Scandalous Queen; Anna of Kleve, The Princess in the Portrait; Jane Seymour, The Haunted Queen; Anne Boleyn, A King's Obsession; and Katherine of Aragon, The True Queen, as well as numerous earlier novels . She has also written historical biographies that include Queens of the Age of Chivalry; Queens of the Crusades; Queens of the Conquest; The Lost Tudor Princess, and Elizabeth of York. She lives in Surrey, England. Chapter 1 1503 He had cried for hours. Mother, his dearest Mother, was dead. It had been the most hateful, dreadful news, broken to him by Mrs. Luke, his old nurse. Not, thankfully, by Father, who was too broken by his own grief. Harry could not have coped with witnessing the King’s distress. He had enough to bear. He had wept and wept on Mrs. Luke’s broad bosom, and now, aware that great boys of eleven were not supposed to give way to womanish tears, he struggled to compose himself and went to find his sisters, who were sitting desolately on the rug before the fire in Mother’s bedchamber. He stared in horror at the bed, which had already been hung and draped with the black velvet of mourning. Mother would never sleep here again; he would never more hear her sweet voice, feel her gentle arms around him, her golden boy. How truly she had loved him; how desperately sad to think of the empty years ahead without her. He could not damp down the great swell of sorrow that was rising within him. He sank to his knees by the bed and buried his head in his hands. He had loved her, revered her, adored her. Through her, he was the heir to the rightful royal line of England. She had been everything a queen should be: beautiful, kind, fruitful, charitable, open-handed, and devout. She had taught him his first prayers and his first letters, soothed his childish ills, and been a fount of wise advice and comfort. And now she was gone. He could not bear it. His grandmother, the Lady Margaret, found him and lifted him up. Framed by her widow’s wimple and black gable hood, her thin face was sad and drawn. “Harry, you must rejoice that your dear mother is with God and be happy for her.” “How can I?” he burst out. “I need her! How can God be so cruel as to take her from me?” “Hush, child! You must not question God’s will.” She sat on the bed and drew him to her, as Mary, not quite seven and the beauty of the family, climbed on her lap and sat there, her lower lip trembling, and Margaret, thirteen years old and normally willf