I wonder if she will know? Know that just before I died, that I prayed that she would forgive me.
There were many people that I should have thought of before I thought of her, but for some reason, she was the only one I bothered to think of, not my sister, Mary, not my beloved brother, or my turncoat father not even Elizabeth, whom I would never see again, but her.
Her and then her mother, it was too late for Catherine, but maybe it wasn't too late for her daughter.
As I began my speech, I noticed the Spanish ambassador, Chapuys in the crowd.
Good. He would tell her. He would tell her that my last act in this life was to pray for her forgiveness.
I had always loved children, I had never told Henry but I always wanted a daughter over a son.
But Mary and I hated each other right from the beginning and part of me knew that it was my fault. Perhaps if I had been kinder to her and to her mother then she would have grown to love Elizabeth and to accept me as Queen.
It was a vain hope.
Mary reminded me of myself in some ways, though I would never admit it. She was strong- willed and stubborn, refusing to give in, even when threatened with death.
It is perhaps wrong of me, but I want her forgiveness not for me, but for my daughter.
I doubt that there can be forgiveness for me, not from her.
But maybe Elizabeth can be saved.
It is my fault that I have placed Elizabeth in such danger.
For I have seen the way that Mary looks at me, her eyes not quite concealing the burning hatred she feels at me for destroying her life and her place in not only the succession, but in her fathers heart.
I remember a time, not so long ago when Mary was the pearl of his world and Katherine was the Queen of his heart, but I destroyed that.
And now because of me, though she tries to love Elizabeth, I know she will fail.
I need her forgiveness, for God forbid if Mary Tudor becomes Queen; she will not stop until she punishes my daughter. Why? Because she exists, because Elizabeth looks so much like me, that whenever Mary looks into her eyes, she will only see me and not the sweet sister she loves now.
Mary is deeply, deeply religious but it would not stop her taking a life or indeed many lives for the throne, it is not the throne itself that Mary wants, but what it represents. It is what her mother fought for and died for, Mary's right to inherit the throne.
This is the last thing that I can do for Elizabeth. And in a strange way, this is the last thing I can do for Mary; to let her know that I am sorry for the pain I have caused her over the years.
"I know that my life is nearing its end, but before I die, I beseech the Lady Mary to accept my plea of forgiveness"
I know that the crowd has heard my words when I hear their shocked gasps.
Now I am prepared for death, knowing that I have done all I could for both Elizabeth and Mary.
They say that a Queen of England will be burned.
I am hoping they are wrong.
For Elizabeth's sake… And Mary's.
After all what Mary has become and what she will yet become.
Is because of me.
Anne was dead. Finally after almost ten years of making Mary's life hell, Anne Boleyn so- called Queen of England was dead. They say that Anne had died, praying for Mary's forgiveness. Normally Mary was a forgiving person, but she couldn't forgive Anne. Not even for Elizabeth's sake. Why?
Because Mary knew she didn't really mean it, or if even a small part of her did, Mary knew that it wasn't for her sake, but for Elizabeth's.
She couldn't even begin to comprehend the possibility that Anne might be doing it for her.
Mary remembered a time when she was happy. When she visited her mother and father often, when she was the pearl of her father's world. when she was a Princess, when she was young and innocent.
Things hadn't been like that for a while now. Mary thought that Anne could never usurp her mother's position as Queen of England, but she did. Mary thought that her father would never break with Rome, he did. Mary thought that God would never give that evil woman a child, he did.
Over the years Mary had learnt to expect nothing but the worst. Mary's lowest point came when her father insisted upon Mary signing the oath, threatening to kill her if she did not comply. Mary did not give in, but it was the first time that she had an inkling of who her father had truly become. It was the first time she feared for her life. It was the first time that she realized that being a King's daughter did not make you safe from the King's wrath.
She was sent to wait on her bastard half- sister Elizabeth, but still Mary was determined to fight for her right to rule. Then her beloved mother Queen Katherine of Aragon died. Her father, in an act of astonishing cruelty banned her from the funeral. The day the she was buried, Anne miscarried a baby boy.
Mary felt as though her mother was sending her one last gift. With this miscarriage the King declared his intent to be rid of Anne. Now that Anne was dead and Elizabeth was declared illegitimate, her father married Jane Seymour.
Jane was the mother Mary had been missing. She was kind, generous and most importantly of all she wanted Mary to become reconciled with her father. But although Mary didn't know it, something had died inside her.
That goodness and innocence she had once possessed was slowly dying, it had started dying with the reign of Anne and it finally died when her father sent Phillip of Bavaria, her one true love away.
No one could help her then. Her life became a dark cloud, it was forever ruined. And though no one realized it, Mary would never be the same again, she would never truly love her father again, she would never really love Elizabeth again and she would never be merciful again.
In all her years of hardship, Mary had learnt that the world was not kind to her, no matter how kind she was to it, no matter how religious or how studious or obedient she was.
She would never come out on top or be truly loved for herself. So she had given up being kind.
It was all because of Anne.
I