Book Report: Inspired-By Story
I sobbed, my head buried in the covers of my bed.
"And so I must tell you that the marriage was indeed unlawful and must and will be annulled." Henry looked as though he had been bewitched. Bewitched by the Boleyn ambition. I saw Mary, that blond Boleyn, sister to the whore that would be taking my place, enter the room with a worried expression on her face. She would report to her uncle that I had been crying. She always reported everything to her uncle. And they would use it to their advantage.
I whispered, lifting my tearstained head from the bed. "We had a dispensation."
"A Pope cannot dispense with the laws of God," Henry insisted firmly. Blast that Anne Boleyn! She had taught Henry that his will was the will of God. Now that Henry wanted another wife, all he had to say was that God never recognized the marriage. I pray to God that the same words she used against me would come back and bite her. When Henry was tired with her, all he had to say was "Oh, nope. God said it didn't actually happen. Sorry." and he could behead her.
"It is not the law of God..."
"Don't argue with me, madam!" Even now, Henry was afraid of my intelligence. He was afraid I would make a convincing argument, one that would snap him out of his Boleyn trance. "You must learn that you will no longer be my wife and queen. You must step aside." Step aside? For Boleyn Ambition? I don't think so.
"I cannot step aside. Even if I wished to. I am your wife and your queen. Nothing can prevent that. Nothing can put it aside." My voice was quavering; I was again on the verge of tears.
"I have told you, so you have heard it from my own lips." Henry was standing at the doorway. "You cannot complain that I have not been honest with you. I have told you this is how it must be." He was quick to leave, even after he had rejected me. Ha! He is still afraid, still afraid!
He turned to leave. Mary had pressed herself against the wall of the doorway, allowing the king to pass. I shouted one last plea. "I have loved you for years! I gave my womanhood to you. Tell me, in what way have I offended you? What have I ever done that was displeasing?"
Henry stopped short. I thought I had him. "You had to give me a son." he said simply. "You did not do that."
"I tried! God knows, Henry! I tried! I bore you a son, that he did not live was no fault of mine. God wanted our little prince in Heaven; that was no fault of mine." He had to keep bringing this up, didn't he!
"You have to give my a son. I have to have a son for England, Katherine. You know that." He just wanted to get rid of me.
"You have to reconcile yourself to God's will." Again, Henry was pretending his will was the will of God.
"It is God himself who has prompted me to this. God himself has warned me that I must leave this false marriage of sin and start again. And if I do, I shall have a son. I know it, Katherine. And you-"
"Yes? What for me? A nunnery? Old age? Death? I am a Princess of Spain and the Queen of England. What can you offer me instead of these?" We were screaming, trying to top each other. I was screaming, crying, my voice cracking, tears streaming down my red face. He thought he could get rid of me! He really did.
"It is God's will!" Henry yelled, hoping I would back down, and he could run to Anne Boleyn. Ha! I'd bet she wouldn't last more than a year if she doesn't give him a son.
I laughed then, as wild as my sobbing had been earlier. I saw Mary flinch; she had never seen me show any emotion. "God's will that you should turn aside from your true wedded wife and marry a nobody? A whore? The sister of your whore?" I saw Mary flinch again. She should be here, to hear every word I spoke. Every word I spoke now was true. The plain truth. Many thought I was going crazy. They might not be wrong. I might be crazy.
"It is God's will and my will!" Henry stormed out of the room. Anne would probably caress him, calm him, make him forget that he loved me, forget I existed. But Anne would never forget I stood in her way. Until I was dead.
I saw Mary shrink, try to blend into the woodwork. "Help me, Mary." I put my arm, and she helped me drag myself to my feet. I could hardly stand. Mary insisted that I must rest.
"I cannot rest," I replied. "Hand me my rosary and help me to my prie dieu."
"Your Majesty..." Mary started to speak.
"Mary." My voice was hoarse and sore from the sobbing and shouting. "He will destroy me, he will disinherit our daughter, he will ruin this country, and he will send his immortal soul to hell. I have to pray for him, for me, and for our country. And I have to write to my nephew." Mary's eyes were shocked, although her voice, insisting I could not send a letter to my nephew, hid her feelings. She could not understand why I still loved Henry, why I would still pray for him. Fool! Does she think that all marriages are like her own to William Carey? That they are made of people who don't care for each other? Regardless of the fact that Henry was acting more and more infantile the older and fatter he got, I still loved him. And I would fight to keep him loving me.
"Don't write anything that could be held against you." What did she think could happen to me, that has not already happened? "He has run mad this spring and he will recover by autumn. All I have to do is get through the summer." I was really thinking aloud.
"The Boleyn summer." Mary was thinking of someone, perhaps her sister or her brother George.
"The Boleyn summer," I repeated. "It cannot last for more than one season." I gripped the purple velvet of the prie dieu, and Mary left me. Perhaps she thought I was deep in prayer. I was actually deep in thought.
I could not understand it! How could Henry, my beloved Henry, do this to me? How could I, Queen of England, be pushed aside for a Boleyn? But I would not show it. I would pretend to not notice, as I had always done. I would continue to work on the alter cloth with Mary, as I had always done. I would always smile at the king as he smiled at another. As we had always done. I knew it was hopeless to fight it, the tide of Boleyn ambition, but I would anyway. To keep Henry, my little princess Mary, and to keep the country firm. These were the things I would have to endure to keep the country from falling apart at its seams. My God! I must be going mad, or Henry is going mad (it is, in fact, highly likely) that he thinks I will not defend myself, that I will just step aside, that I will give up.
This scene is a scene from the book, The Other Boleyn Girl, which I told from a different point of view. I thought that this scene would be the most interesting to recreate because Queen Katherine is usually shown as stern and unfeeling, and this shows that she actually has feelings and loves Henry, even though he is not exactly "faithful." The book is narrated by Mary Boleyn, so it shows what she is thinking, but this point of view shows what Queen Katherine was thinking. All the dialogue is actual dialogue from the book.