A Promise Broken?

Hello people! The next chapter is here! There is no song in this chapter. Instead a poem written by the real Thomas Wyatt. Hope you all enjoy this latest chapter. I own nothing!

'For England!' yelled King Henry, raising his sword. Behind him, his army roared, ready for battle. They charged at the enemy army and the battle was underway. Soon, screams of agony and swords clashing together could be heard everywhere. King Henry and King Francis stood swords pointing at one another. Suddenly, without warning, an ally of Francis, kicked Henry hard in the back and knocked his sword out of his hand. Henry stumbled to the ground. Francis seized the moment and stabbed Henry in the chest. Henry could feel his strength draining away. 'Anne...' he whispered, before everything went black.

It was three weeks since Henry Tudor, King of England left for battle against France. Anne thought about him first thing in the morning and last thing at night. She dreamed about him every night. Everyday she would open her locket and stare at his handsome face. She hoped that wherever he was, he was alright and would return to her soon. He had promised her that he would.

But there was something else. Recently, every morning Anne would be given a folded piece of paper by one of the servants. Every time, it would be a poem. Anne didn't know who it was who was sending them.

Now, Anne had to admit that the poems were very good but a little intimidating. They would always be describing her, her dark hair, her blue eyes, her white body... George thought that it must be an admirer of some sort. But Anne didn't want admirers. She was already in love with another man, and wouldn't replace him for anybody.

So she had asked George to do a little investigating into who it was who was writing these poems. After a few days without success, George came back with news.

'It is Sir Thomas Wyatt, Anne. He lives not too far from here. I saw him under a tree, writing something. I snuck up behind him and recognised his handwriting from the poems. He's in love with you Anne. He's trying to seduce you with his poems.' he told her.

So Anne headed off through the fields to see if she could find Thomas Wyatt. Sure enough, she found him under the tree, almost definitely writing another poem.

'Sir Thomas.' she said. Thomas looked up and smiled when he saw her. 'Good day my lady.' he said softly. Anne held out the poems. 'I've come to return your poems Sir Thomas.' she said. Thomas smirked and stood up. 'You cannot give a poem back Lady Anne. Or a kiss. Or a thought.' he said. Very gently, he stroked a lock of Anne's hair away from her face. Anne pushed his hand away.

'You are just in time to hear my newest poem, Lady Anne.' he said. Smiling at the woman, he started to recite his poem.

'Ye old mule that think yourself so fair,

Leave off with craft your beauty to repair,

For it is true, without any fable,

No man setteth more by riding in your saddle

Too much travail so do your train appair.

Ye old mule.'

Thomas's hands moved down to Anne's neck. Anne tried to pull away but he was too quick for her. He continued with his poem.

'With false savour though you deceive th'air,

Whoso taste you shall well perceive your lair

Savoureth somewhat of a Kappurs stable.

Ye old mule.'

As he talked, Thomas's hand moved towards the laces of Anne's dress. Slowly he started to untie them. Anne stuggled to get herself free.

'Ye must now serve to market and to fair,

All for the burden, for panniers a pair.

For since gray hairs been powdered in your sable,

The thing ye seek for, you must yourself enable

To purchase it by payment and by prayer,

Ye old- AAGH!'

Before Thomas could finish his poem, Anne gave him a sharp kid in the groin. He yelled in pain and released his grip on her, doubling up. 'You will never touch me again Thomas Wyatt! You will stop sending me these stupid poems! I want nothing to do with you! So keep your stupid poems to yourself and leave me alone!' she growled at him.

Anne made a run for it, racing through the fields. Looking back, she saw that Thomas was running after her. Seeing the village up ahead, Anne rushed to the house of her friend, Nan Saville, who quickly let her in. Fortunately Thomas ran past her house, on through the village. Anne sighed in relief.

They looked out of the window half an hour later, when they were sure that Thomas was gone. 'Shall we have a walk around the village now Anne?' suggested Nan. 'Yes, I don't see why not.' agreed Anne.

As they walked through the village, everyone saw a messanger heading towards them. Anne recognised the Tudor Rose on his crest. He was yelling something for everyone to hear.

'The King is dead! England to fight on!'

The King is dead. The King is dead. The King is dead.

In an instant, Anne felt her heart break.

Later that evening, George heard sobs coming from his sister's room. He opened the door to find Anne lying on her bed, crying her heart out.

'Anne! What is the matter?' he asked, rushing to hug her. 'He's... dead, George. He's dead! Henry is dead!' gasped Anne through sobs. 'Anne...' George felt dreadful. He knew how much Anne loved the King of England. And now, he had cruelly been taken away from her forever...

'He promised he'd come back! He promised!' sobbed Anne. Now, Henry would never come back. Anne would never see him again. The thought of that made her cry even harder.

'Daughter? Are you still up?' called Thomas Boleyn. George and Anne froze. Quickly Anne wiped away the tears and George dabbed her eyes with water. 'If he asks, say that you're not well.' he whispered. 'A good idea.' agreed Anne.

If there was one thing that Thomas Boleyn did not like, it was tears. And he did not know a thing about Anne and her secret love affair with King Henry Tudor. So, as far as Anne and George were concerned, all they could do was lie.

Thomas Boleyn entered Anne's room. 'Daughter are you alright?' he asked. 'Father, I am not well.' lied Anne smoothly. 'I have news for you. About your marraige.' said Thomas.

'Marraige?' Anne and George looked at one other in surprise. Thomas Boleyn had not said anything about marraige for a very long time.

'Indeed. A marraige has finally been settled for you. In a month, you shall be married to Thomas Seymour, son of Sir John Seymour.' he declared.

Anne was horrified. First, she had been nearly raped by Thomas Wyatt, now she was going to be married to Thomas Seymour? She couldn't do it.

'No. No, Father. I can't. I cannot and I will not marry Thomas Seymour! I won't!' she said. Thomas raised an eyebrow. 'Anne, it's all arranged. You are marrying Thomas Seymour in a month and that is that.' he said.

But Anne would not drop it. 'Father, I will not marry Thomas Seymour! I don't want to marry him! Please don't make me!' she said. Thomas was losing his patience. 'Anne, stop this nonsense now. You are marrying Thomas Seymour and nothing will change that. Now stop this.' he said in annoyance. 'But Father-'

'ENOUGH!' he yelled, slapping Anne across the face. She fell to the ground in shock. 'Father!' shouted George, trying to grab at the man, but Thomas knocked him to the ground as well. He stood over his two children, glaring down at them both.

'You listen to me. You are marrying Thomas Seymour. If you do not, I will throw you out of this house, myself! You will never be a Boleyn again. You can starve on the streets if you wish! It's either you marry, or be disinherited. Whatever you choose!' he growled at Anne before storming out of the room.

Anne sat shaking, clutching her cheek. 'Anne...' whispered George, crawling over to his sister. 'George...' she said before collapsing into tears. George put his arms around his sister, holding her tight. Seeing his sister cry after losing her love and being forced into marraige, George knew that he hated his father more than anybody in the world.

To Be Continued. Next chapter, Anne meets Thomas's sister Jane and then they secretly go to visit the Princess Mary. Until next time- please review! I won't update if I don't get reviews!