The King of England is pacing around in front of me. He has been looking at me disbelievingly since the time he arrived. I feel a sense of satisfaction as his eyes show undeniable fear. He has kept a feet distance as he circled me in my bed. Yet, this traitorous heart cannot step itself to beat faster for it has been years since I last saw him.

He had come just two days after my 'resurrection'. He is not the only that find it hard that my heart still beats. I feel as if I am dreaming these two days.

"You are a witch. I know it. You are sent by the devil to torment me. I should just burn you and be done with it," he says with his heavy voice, trying to assert his kingly persona.

"Are you not afraid that I will turn you into a frog before you do so?" I mischievously smile. His face becomes very pale.

I laugh inwardly. Since the time I open my eyes, I am relieved from all my burdens. God has given me another chance of life. I have been thinking these two days. I am unwilling to become Catherine of Aragon again. That woman had died.

"Catherine of Aragon had died Your Majesty. You yourself had announced it in the court. You and your so-called-queen had decked yourself in yellow, celebrated her death, and proudly displayed your daughter Elizabeth."

Jack, the Groom of the Chandlery that should have embalmed me, told me so. He has continuously asked for my forgiveness for almost cutting open my body and begged me not to use my magic to curse him. I just laugh. I have told him over and over that I am not a witch but he just does not want to believe me.

I watch the man who was the husband of Catherine. There are still the lingering feelings of the woman who I used to be. She had loved and longed to see this man and my heart still swells with happiness to be able to see his face.

At the age 45, he was still handsome though a bit plumper. He still has that royal bearing that made ambassadors wrote him as the most handsome in Christendom, the reckless arrogance which cause storm in the serene Infanta's heart.

The man keeps on walking around me before suddenly stop. He looks at me with his sharp eyes. "If Catherine is dead, then who are you?"

"I am just an old Spanish woman stranded in your kingdom. It is my wish to go back to Spain."

"Then what Witch? Will you provoke your nephew the Emperor to attack me?"

"Of course not." I smile. "I just want to live in peace. Everyone knows that Catherine had died Your Majesty, including her Spanish ladies in waiting. That is no doubt about that. "

"But there will be no body to be buried."

"It is a simple thing for you to put another body in the casket and close it."

Henry looked at me with his calculating eyes. His blue eyes are still mesmerizing. "You are asking me to lie? You never lie before."

I feel a bit conflicted. Even after God gives me a second chance, still I sin. Nevertheless, it is not a lie that Catherine had died. I am only an ordinary woman wanting to go home.

"Catherine never lies but I am not Catherine."

I cannot stop myself from adding. "Besides, you did not believe that Catherine was not a maiden when she came to you. Why are you saying that she never lies?"

At least he has the dignity to look guilty. There is a long silence before he finally says.

"Fine then Witch. You can go back to Spain but you can only live in a small village far away from the Emperor's court."

I am so happy. At last, I can go back to Spain.

"It is a good idea Your Majesty, I will obey it if you fulfill my one request."

"What else?" he said grudgingly.

"Mary, the daughter of Catherine, will accompany me to Spain."

I wait for him to answer. His face becomes red with anger. "No… How dare for you to propose such thing."

"There is nothing to worry Your Majesty. I will use the name Margarita Gracia and she can change her name into Maria Gracia. Both names are very common among Spanish people. We will both color our hair black. No one will recognize us."

Henry seems to become even more furious.

"My daughter will not be a Spanish commoner."

I rolled my eyes. Not caring that it is not ladylike at all.

"Better be a respectable commoner than a royal bastard."

"What do you mean? As my child, she is treated with respect and life in luxury."

"Because Mary is your child, people say that she is the product of sin. Most men that court him will likely have questionable reputations. She cannot even see her mother in her last hours."

I was livid with anger. How dare this man speak as if he really cares for Mary.

"Insolent. You dare say that to the King of England."

"I am only telling the truth."

"I would not have treated her like that if only you had not been stubborn and just received the annulment."

Sadly, there is a grain of truth in his words. Not that Catherine was wrong to fight for her marriage. Yet, as I remember the flashback of Catherine's life, I wonder whether she had made the best choices.

"Catherine did what she believed as the truth. Yet, if she could turn back the time, she would have done anything to stop herself from marrying you."

I look straight to his blue eyes. In his youth, his eyes look at me with affection and passion. Today, there is only anger and hate.

"This conversation is over," says Henry before he leaves me alone.

XXXX

Days passed as I fill my day with prayers and marveling on the fact that I am alive. I do not know why God has given me this second chance. There was no voice in my 'death'. No Saint Peter to open the Heaven Gate. No devil to torture me for my sins.

I remember the peace. I remember the serenity. The story of my life was enacted like a very long and detailed play.

I just feel this happiness. Simple… unbound happiness. I am still living in a body of 50-year-old woman, yet most of the times, I feel as if I am a toddler, who see everything in life with curiosity and fascination.

Jack, the should-be-embalmer, followed the King's order and had secretly moved me away to a small house in a village far away from the Kimbolton Castle, Catherine's place of 'death'. Only Grace, a servant who also works as the cook, lives with me in the small house.

I have cut my hair short and colored it black. I have never visited the village and it is unlikely that any of the villagers had ever seen me in my previous life.

Jack introduced me as a Spanish widow of his remote cousin that had live in London. He said that I came to seek comfort from my grief. The people immediately became genuinely kind and friendly. They have none of the courtiers' intrigues and when the women come to offer me some foods, I do not need to worry about poison.

The food is very simple. Most of the time, it is just bread and cheese or chicken soup. The villagers do not use expensive spices from the East. Yet, there are abundance of fresh fruits and vegetables.

There is none of the court's grandiose and luxury. No beautiful paintings or mesmerizing voices of singers and poets. Yet, the choir of children in the village's small church has its own simple beauty and the beautiful wild flowers grown by nature never fail to brighten my days.

These days of simple life strengthen my decision never to again be Catherine. I enjoy this life even more so than my life as Spanish Infanta. I am now Margarita Gracia, a commoner from Spain.

I find myself no longer worrying about Henry's actions or even Mary. I just feel this conviction that everything will be alright and I will soon meet my daughter. Catherine might be dead but my love for Mary will not die as long as I am still in this earth.

XXXX

I hear the voice of carriage coming fast to the house. Not long after, I hear the voice of Jack.

"My Lady, there are some friends that will like to meet you. May we come in?"

It is night time and Grace is sleeping in her sister's house for the night. It is not proper for a lady to be in a room with a man and strangers.

Then I just shake my head. This is not the court and I am a 50 year old woman.

I open the door and two people in hoods along with Jack came inside the room.

The taller one with hood soon bolted the door before the two open their hoods. I gasped in surprise as I see Henry along with Charles Brandon.

"Your Majesty, Your Grace" I curtsey to both of them.

"Stop the pretence Witch. You're a killer of baby." His voice was ice cold.

"Your Majesty, please be calm," Brandon put his hand in Henry's shoulder.

"My son died the day your pretend funeral was done. You have cursed my family and cause Anne's miscarriage."

How Henry love the blame me for all his problems. He had blamed Catherine for her miscarriages and death of her sons. As if Catherine did not love the life that had grown inside her body. Now, he even blames me for Anne Boleyn's miscarriage.

I make a cross sign and say a short prayer for the dead baby. I no longer harbor any hate toward his mother and I have never hate him.

"Stop acting so pious Witch! I should just burn you now for all the pain you caused!"

I am not Catherine and I do not love him. Still, it hurts to hear those words.

"I am no witch and I live faraway in this remote village. I have no idea when my pretend funeral was held. I cannot and do not want to hurt an innocent child."

"Liar!"

I take a deep breath. Henry is always like this. He only believes what he wants to believe. It is no use to debate with him.

"Fine then! Believe what you want to believe."

I look into his eyes, trying to change my expression into the expression of a 'witch'.

"If I am truly a witch, then I will curse you and your family from now until eternity. Except for Mary and her future descendants, you and all of your descendants will be dead before the end of this year."

Of course, I am not truly cursing him and his children. I hate not Henry Fitzroy, Anne's little girl, or any of his future children.

"But none of this will happen if you let me and Mary to live in peace in Spain."

I do not like to lie to Henry. But then technically I am not lying. I did say the word "If". Yet, Henry has convinced himself that I am truly a witch so my little act seems to be successful.

His face is so pale that he looks like a corpse. Suddenly he holds his foot as if in pain.

"Your Majesty, your wound has not fully healed. Please sit," says Charles Brandon.

"He is wounded?" I ask.

"His Majesty had been badly wounded in a jousting tournament," Charles said.

Henry was sitting in a chair, his face shows vivid pain. I feel pain stabbing my heart. Henry is in pain… my beloved Henry….

"The royal physician is in the carriage. I will call him to this room. Jack, please take the lady somewhere else," Charles says.

XXXX

As Henry is treated in the room, Jack takes me to the servant's room.

"You are not a witch Your Majesty."

"No, I am not."

"But it seems that all your words have begun to be fulfilled."

Jack continues by explaining that Henry was badly wounded during a jousting tournament. Henry fell from his horse and he had almost lost his life.

It was ironic, Jack says, since the tournament was actually held to celebrate my 'death'. I do not know what to feel. Maybe a mix of anger and dark humor. Yet, now I can only feel myself praying that he will soon heal.

After hearing about the accident, Anne Boleyn was very shocked and she miscarried at the same day as the pretend funeral.

I cross myself, praying for the man who Catherine had loved. I even pray for Anne. I know the pain of miscarriage. I suffered two miscarriages and three of my children died in infancy. I will not hope for such pain inflicted even to my worst enemy.

"God is punishing the King for ill treating you and your daughter," Jack said.

"Don't say that Jack."

"I am not the only one who thinks so my queen. Everyone who has heard the story says so."

"Maybe it's not God's punishment. Maybe I am truly a witch."

My should-be-embalmer looks at me with solemnity.

"Your Majesty, you love the King. Your eyes cannot hide your affection. I feel that you would have hugged the King to comfort him, if he has allowed it. Even if you're a witch, you wish no harm for him."

I blush upon hearing his words.

"Catherine is the one who loves him. I am not Catherine. I am Margarita Gracia," I say stubbornly.

The man just looks at me for a long time.

"Whoever you are, I thank you my lady."

"What for?"

"I learn my lesson never to betray my faithful wife, less God decides to give me some hard lesson."

I cannot stop myself from smiling. "That is good Jack."

Author Note:

While watching the news about ISIS and Boko Haram, I become very angry. I made this poem to remind myself. It does have a relation with the future plot I plan for this story.

They Want Me to Hate

They want me to hate Muslims

They want me to hate Jewish

They want me to hate Christian

They burn Muslims

They shot Jewish

They beheaded Christians

They who think themselves as heroes against tyranny

They who claim as the protectors of the weak

Kidnap little girls

Strapped bombs in their little bodies

From safe distance push the trigger of death

They wait me to hate

They wait me to snap

And insult other people's faith

And think those different then me as less than me

They wait for me to become like them

To discriminate and to lash

To broad the circles of hate

I am grateful that I am no soldier

For I never want to kill

Yet, if I have a gun

And an ISIS or a Boko Haram stand in front of me

I am not sure that I will not push the trigger

Though Jesus always give forgiveness

Dear Lord

I am thankful that I don't have gun

I am thankful that I am not the one who has to decide

To launch air strike against these haters

I see only a mask

And a voice that demand payment for life of innocents

I do not think I am able

To see a human that You love

Yet I know that You love him

I see killers

Of fathers that can never see their little girls again

Of daughters that can never go home again

Of journalists that can no longer speak for the oppressed

I know that I hate them Dear Lord

And maybe they are half successful

For I already hate them when You command always to love

But I will not hate

My Muslim friends with headscarves

My Jewish friends with Star of David necklaces

My Christian friends with their cross earrings

I will not hate the woman with headscarf that lent me an umbrella during rain

The Jewish man who give jobs to my father

The churchgoer that says she will pray for me

I will love

And love and love and love

Though I have no idea God

How to love them who killed while reciting your Name

As if the Almighty need to be defended by sinners

Like them or even like me

Give me strength to love Dear Lord

Not to turn into them