Disclaimer: I have no ownership of the characters from The Tudors.
14th May 1536, Tower of London
Despite being a warm May morning, the skies over London were a dreary grey and threatened to rain. Inside the Tower of London, Queen Anne was deep in prayer at the make shift altar that had been erected in her prison cell, her spirit as dull as the sky up above. She couldn't help but contemplate her fate. Earlier this month she had been in her bloom as the May Queen, yet here she was now incarcerated like a common prisoner for treason against the King, her husband. It was like a bad dream that she couldn't wake up from.
She prayed daily.
Deeply.
With great devotion.
It was the only thing that brought her comfort in these dark days. She would ask God for clarity. What had she done that was so wicked that she deserved this? Had she done anything at all? Was she being tested? Like God tested Moses in the desert? Was she being sacrificed for the greater good, destined to become a martyr for his glorious cause? Or had she been completely mistaken? Was she now entirely forsaken?
By both God and her husband, the King?
She could not bring herself to think that God could be so cruel! This was not God's work. It was the Devil's. The Devil and his servant, Thomas Cromwell! It was all his doing. He had poisoned the King against her by whispering venom in his ear. Him and that witch, Jane Seymour, who seduced him with honeyed words and enticing kisses. They said she was an innocent in all this, but Anne always suspected that Jane was a snake in the grass.
What would happen to her family if she was found guilty and condemned to death? Especially her brother, who had been accused alongside her of the most disgusting and vile imaginings. Incest! The King was truly mad to believe her capable of such depravities. And what of her darling Elizabeth? What would happen to her as the daughter of a traitor? Surely Henry would not forsake his own flesh and blood? But then their treatment of Mary echoed in her mind and she clutched her hands together even tighter in order to relieve her anxiety.
She knew exactly what the King was capable of, and it frightened her.
Lord God,
Please protect my family and keep them safe.
Watch over my daughter and keep her from harm.
Give me the strength to persevere and preserve my soul.
Into your hands I commend my spirit.
Amen.
She kept repeating the prayer over and over, as though it were a mantra. The rosary she held between her hands dug into her flesh but she didn't care. She continued to pray in hope that God would hear her pathetic pleading.
But suddenly a loud raucous from outside her cell roused her from her meditation and she stood up to investigate what was happening.
There was some sort of commotion occurring and she could hear two people arguing with each other. She cast off her glistening black veil and listened attentively at the door, careful to hear every word being exchanged.
"I wish to speak to the Queen" a voice demanded. Anne's eyes flickered instantly at hearing these words. The voice was soft and feminine but the lady in question spoke to the guard with all the authority of a Prince. The guard was stammering in his response.
"Bbb...bbbut Milady" he began to stutter, not sure whether he was being tricked or not. "The King says that she is to have no visitors save for her chaplain"
"The King has given me permission. You do not believe me? I have his written authority here, stamped by his royal seal. Open it if you dare, but do not think I will forget about this impertinence in the future" the lady warned with steely determination.
"No no no of course not, Milady. Give me one moment" the man began to back track, trying to coax the woman into his good books. Anne backed away from the door at the sound of his rattling key ring. It sounded as though he was fumbling through each and everyone of them in his quest to seek the one that opened her cell door.
"Here we go!" he announced and the clink of metal upon metal informed Anne that the key had been slotted into the keyhole. With an ear piercing, rusty old creak, the door swung open.
Anne's curiosity was peaked.
She could see the figure of the woman standing in the threshold waiting for the guard to move out of the way. Yet she could not see the woman's face. Instinctively, Anne looked over the woman's garments and observed she was wearing a turquoise hooded cloak made from the best Venetian velvet with the finest pink and gold damask skirt peaking out from beneath the fabric. From this, she insinuated that the lady must be someone very wealthy or from some ancient, noble family.
Her mind began to race at the possibilities of who it could be.
Was it Lady Mary, come to revel over her demise? Or could it be young Catherine Brandon, the Duchess of Suffolk, coming to beg for forgiveness for the part her husband played in her downfall? Or perhaps even her aunt the Dowager Countess of Norfolk, come to offer her some kinds words in her final days?
As the guard moved the lady stepped inside the room almost hesitantly. But as she did, she pulled back her hood and her glorious golden curls immediately cascaded down over her ivory shoulders and she shot her a sickeningly sweet smile.
"Milady" Jane Seymour greeted with a short bob of a curtsey.
Anne was almost foaming at the mouth in outrage!
How dare she come into her cell. How dare she show such lack of respect. First to steal her husband from beneath her very nose. Then her crown. Now finally she had the nerve to come and have one last gloat tête-à-tête. How dare she address her with anything other than 'Your Majesty' and not honour her with a low and grovelling curtsey.
She did well to bite her tongue and kept her face as a mask of stoic serenity, hiding all the bubbling feelings that lay beneath her calm exterior.
Jane took a quick look at her surroundings and immediately decided that they were not to her tastes. How sad it must be to reside in here, she thought. Sure, it was comfortable enough but the place lacked heart and soul. There was no love here. No emotion. And what torment to be locked up in the very same room that was once her coronation chamber, she lamented. She began to make herself at home and pulled out a chair from the table on which Anne's untouched breakfast still lay. She hadn't had the stomach to eat this morning. Everything seemed to taste like ash to her at the moment and she found no enjoyment in food or wine any more.
Jane looked at the food with great distaste, as though anything less than a King's banquet would not satisfy her hunger.
"You are well?" Jane enquired half heartedly, as though it were just habit to ask the question and it no longer had any real meaning.
"As well as can be expected in such circumstances" was Anne's studied reply. She didn't think for one minute that Jane had any honest reason to be here. She was probably just here to gloat, comparing her own rising star to Anne's falling one. Either that or to spy on the Queen and report anything that could be used as evidence against her at her trial.
"Good. That's very good" Jane nodded to herself, earning a raised eye brow from Anne.
"How is my husband, the King?" she dared to ask, sharply reminding the pale girl that in the eyes of God she was still Henry's lawful wife and Queen of England.
"He is in perfect health and as merry as a school boy" Jane smiled naughtily, as though she knew some mischievous secret that only she was privy to.
Anne's blood began to boil at such words.
Merry? How could he be merry? Is he not angry about my supposed infidelity? Or sad at my alleged betrayal of him? Or guilty for making such false allegations about me in the first place? He should be anything but merry. How dare he be merry!
"Why are you here, Jane?" Anne suddenly demanded with al the authority of a Queen. She had tired of all the politeness and formality that had to be exchanged between them. She was fully aware that she was living on borrowed time and she couldn't be doing with pussyfooting around in such circumstances.
Jane seemed a little shocked at Anne's bluntness but she could not blame her for it.
"The King has asked me to negotiate with you on his behalf" she began to explain, tapping her long, elegant fingers against the oak table top in a comforting rhythm.
"Negotiations?" Anne queried, utterly confused with the situation that was unravelling before her.
"Yes. Now, luckily for you I am good at not repeating other people's mistakes. I learn lessons very well" Jane began as she poured herself a goblet of Burgundy wine that sat in Anne's silver decanter. "And when you were to be found guilty, and believe me you would have been found guilty, I was to marry the King" she revealed in a rather cold, clinical manner that Anne found most distressing.
A deathly shiver ran down her spine at these words which caused the fine hairs on her arms to stand up on edge. "When you were to be found guilty, and believe me you would have been found guilty, I was to marry the King". So her fate had been predetermined? She wouldn't have even been given a fair trial.
She would have been cast off and discarded like rotten meat. Was that all she was worth?
Jane continued,
"But you see, what he has done to you and Catherine, he can do to me. And I would rather like to keep my head, thank you very much. So, despite my family's protests I have agreed to become the King's mistress, or Mistress of the Heart as he likes to call me" she smiled at his boyish sentimentality.
Anne thought she was going to be sick and clutched at her stomach in order to relieve the pressure.
"But where does that leave you? Well the King could still execute you for treason but then he would be mocked and feared throughout Christendom. And what princess would want to marry a man that so easily discards his wives? So...we thought it best to give you one last chance" Jane announced, deliberating the last sentence a lot more slowly for dramatic effect.
"He has given me another chance? Oh saints be praised!"
Anne fell to her knees and crossed herself in thanks to the good Lord for keeping her safe and vowed in her mind to always be good and honour him as much as she possibly could in return for this blessing. She had a second chance and she would do everything in her power to make it worth while. She felt like she could weep but the thought of seeing Elizabeth's cherubic little face elated her with delirious joy and she couldn't help but cackle manically with happiness.
Oh, to hold my girl in my arms once more!
"But there are to be conditions" Jane coolly interrupted before taking a sip of the wine.
She savoured the rich, sweet taste and let it dance upon her tongue before clearing her throat and beginning once more. "Obviously the King needs an heir. He says that if you fail to be with child before next May Day, you are to be gone from his sight for ever. Also, although you are Queen in name, you will not be given any powers nor any of your queenly privileges until he sees fit. And your powers and privileges will be transferred on to myself as his mistress. And finally, you are to have no communication with your daughter."
Her elevation had completely evaporated with these terms and conditions. This wasn't a marriage. It was blackmail.
These conditions meant she would have to sit by idly whilst Henry got to sew his wild oats with this little wench who sat before her. She was completely and utterly powerless without a friend in the world to help her. Was this to be her life now? Was this a life at all? She had always considered herself a free spirit. She was a passionate creature, not completely wild but she wouldn't have considered herself tame either. She liked to think that she had always had control over her life and destiny, but these terms felt like shackles that would chain her down to a half life. She was to have no opinions, no independence, no voice at all to speak with. She would essentially be a slave. A broodmare.
Was he trying to break her spirit?
And the threat of still being discarded if she did not succeed in her duty of bearing him a healthy son left a nasty taste in her mouth. Could she live like this?
"What would happen to my brother if I were to consent to this?" she questioned.
"He would be freed of course, as would all the other men who were accused alongside you. But he would be banished to the continent and now be allowed to return to our fair island on pain of death" Jane announced.
Well, that was good anyway. At least the King can't get to him if he is safely overseas. But can I really let this woman steal my husband's love and affection for me? Can I live in an unhappy marriage, where I cannot even be myself and am merely there to be the vessel of his heir? Not as lover, or companion or even friend? Just a womb?
"I cannot share him with another woman" was Anne's simple reply, her voice trembling with fear. She knew this would be a dangerous thing to say but she had to say it aloud. She held her breath for the rebuke.
Jane merely took it in her stride.
"You must do, Milady. Or else he will kill you" she stated, but she had to look down at the floor as she spoke her next words, "And your daughter" she solemnly declared.
It felt like a dagger had been plunged into her heart. She had her principals, and she would not allow her pride to be wounded for any man, no matter how grand or majestic he was. She would gladly suffer a traitor's fate than live this half life she was being forced into. But she would not allow her beautiful baby girl to suffer for her mother's pride or her father's insanity.
For this was complete madness.
Even Jane's mournful tone seemed to agree that the King was not in his right mind if he was willing to kill his own child based on the sins of her mother.
Anne let out a loud, defeated sigh.
"Then I fear I must comply. Although you must understand it is against my will" she announced.
That was the day that Anne Boleyn lost her spirit, and she would face many more hardships throughout the next twelve months.