KITTY'S LAST NIGHT
Young Catherine huddled in her cloak staring at the wall in front of her. Sometimes her eyes would glance at the wooden object brought in few hours ago, at her request. She had touched it once, snatching her fingers back. She half expected it to be icy cold ,but it was the same as any other wooden block.
The wooden block that others laid their heads on for execution. Tomorrow it was her turn and Jane Rotheschild. She hoped she would be first or they could wash the block. But she was only going to care for a couple of minutes.A guard took pity on the terrified girl and told her that Jane had gone insane and was playing with her poop. They did not know if it was an act but it would not save her from beheading.
My friend she thought resentfully. Kitty had none. Bulmer had confessed and they released her. Kitty did not blame her. She would have done the same. She would have only been tortured. Francis Dereham had confessed as well but he had his hand mutilated under torture before he broke. That surprised Kitty. Who would have thought that drunken bully would hold out. Culpepper turned on her immediately. My true love she thought bitterly. Yes indeed, she knew how to pick them.
She sighed. The time for hysterics, tears and pleadings were done. Now to wait for the morning. It was very chilly in her cell and she felt very tired and worn out. She also felt very alone.
Her companions, people she knew, her supposed friends were all gone. Joan she still thought of as a friend. She was thoughtless, had a big mouth, but was not mean or truly wished her harm. Jane, good sweet Jane. Lady in waiting to royalty, served two queens before her. Surely Jane would give her the advice and guidance she needed to be successful. But no, she wanted Thomas for herself and laughed at Kitty .Smirked at her. In fact they all did .She was the court fool. Only the gracious Anne of Cleves was truly kind to her. Anne was nice to everyone.
Lady Mary, beautiful and regal, daughter of a queen. Kitty did not know why she was still unmarried. She had suitors. Kitty had foolishly hoped that Mary and she would become friends. But Mary was a snob, and treated her as nothing. At the Christmas Ball, her father had to prompt her to acknowledge his queen. Kitty made several overtures of friendship and was treated with cold politeness, disdain, and outright rudeness before she fought back. Lady Mary made a fool of her long enough.
She and her ladies spent a whole day making pastries and cupcakes as an overture of friendship and she had been snubbed right in front of her ladies. Really, Lady Mary, would it have killed you to take a couple of hours off your busy schedule of Praying and eat some cakes. Was it really too much to ask?
How ironic that now on her last day she acquired some wisdom. When she first married Henry she thought every dream came true. She was the Queen of England. Her husband , the King, delighted in her happiness. Fine furs, jewels of every kind, lovely gowns, adorable spaniel puppies. He could not spoil her enough. Life was good, more than good, it was glorious. He showed her off to all visitors and delegates.
What good was all that now. Toys to amuse his prized pet, as long as she pleased him in the royal bed and gave him a son. He flaunted her in the court, a symbol of his virility, a lovely young girl that he bedded and made sure all knew it. She was surprised he did not strip her naked and do her on the dinner table. And she, little fool, would have gone along with his every wish. What did she know of what went on in the world?
Henry made it plain he did not value her intelligence. Whenever she made a request or tried to suggest something, he responded with a chuckle and an amused laugh. He did all but pat her on the head for being such a funny little girl.
Yes, she had wanted to get pregnant, for she knew Henry wanted children. She ran down during a meeting and told him immediately. He was delighted with the news and she felt special and loved. She was going to bear a boy he wanted so badly. She cried, heartbroken when she bled the next day and realized she was only late.
When she confessed, she hoped he would say he loved her anyways. But he did not. He stared at her so coldly and walked away without a word. She realized with a sinking feeling that his love for her had changed. After that he constantly questioned her if she was pregnant. He did not love her. She was only breeding stock, a pretty mare to produce heirs. He did not even appreciate the ones he had. Two beautiful daughters and that adorable curly haired boy.
She turned to her true love, the king's most trusted groom and courtier, Thomas. He would come in and talk to her, listen to her, offer advice, and give her messages from the King.
Except for one time. Henry's leg took a turn for the worst and he almost died. No one was told how bad he was, not even his wife. She could not be trusted with his health and it hurt her deeply. Not that she would have been a help at nursing, his leg stunk and made her gag, but at least she would have known and not spent days upset and worried. He did not want her with him, no one did. Thomas cared for her, not Henry. Thomas loved her, Henry did not. She still tried to love Henry, but she was lovesick with Thomas.
She really thought no one knew, except for Jane and Joan, her partners in crime. But most of the male servants knew, and others suspected. She was not as discreet as she should have been
Then it all came apart. Sir Edward Seymour was charged with investigating her and he did. He did not want to but an order from the king was not to be taken lightly.
Something she should have kept in mind, considering she was his fifth wife. She ran frantically down the halls to find Henry and beg his forgiveness. He actually walked away as she was dragged off screaming. She caught a look of sympathy from Chapuys, odd since he was Lady Mary's strongest advocate.
Her thoughts went to Queen Anne, also held here and executed. Henry brought over an executioner from France so her death would be painless and quick. But he also spent the day hunting and had a huge feast that evening. Probably hold a huge party when I die. No, it will be an orgy.
She stood up, throwing off her cloak. She asked for the block, and here it was. She hesitated, and despite the cold, slipped off her dress. There was no one to see her naked but God. Maybe he would see her act of repentance and judge her kindly. She knelt down, running her hands along the sides. She pulled her hair to the side. She would have to braid it in the morning. She took a deep breath, than another.
Anne met her death with dignity and courage, and so would she. She heard people vomited or peed when about to die, but she could do nothing about that. She would not scream, cry, or beg. She would look up at the sky and make that her final vision.
She loved dancing and was very good at it. She and Joan used to talk of running off and joining a travelling show. Dancing, acrobatics, travel about the country, a new town each week. I would have enjoyed that. She laid her face against the block.
I wasn't a very good Queen, she thought.
I would have made a much better dancer.