A/N: At the risk of sounding like a stuck record, thank you again for the reviews. I'm really grateful for your support.

Now, having made the Grand Gesture, Team Anne will have to start scrambling like hell to make it work. In other news, Norfolk is a tad miffed...

PART TWO

Regent

CHAPTER TEN

Backlash

The atmosphere in Norfolk's apartment is fiery, to say the least.

"Damn her for an impulsive, stupid whore!" the Duke paces back and forth, enraged that his grand announcement of his Protectorship has been so humiliatingly stalled, "There is no validity in her proclamation - how dare she presume to have precedence over me!"

Audley is sitting in a chair nearby, wringing his hands nervously. He has worked with both of the men who stood with the Queen as she snatched the protectorship from her uncle, and recognised the work of each. Cromwell was the author, that he knows for certain, but there are certain turns of phrase that he recognises as being quite personal to Rich. Their lawyer has, it seems, switched sides - but then, he has always been an untrustworthy toad, so that is no surprise. What is problematic is that, collectively they are a formidable force, with matchless skill in the drafting and interpretation of the Law. That the pair of them are now working for Queen Anne places him in a far more difficult position - for he cannot match them in intellect if they are together. It would be hard enough to match Rich - and almost beyond him to match Cromwell. But both of them? No - he would be utterly outflanked.

Wiltshire is sitting alongside the window, a dark, dangerous look in his eyes, but he says nothing; waiting for Norfolk's temper to blow over. Until that happens, there shall be no progress. Nearby, Rochford gulps at a cup of claret, and equally keeps his counsel.

"Well, Audley?" Norfolk rounds upon the now-unemployed Lord Chancellor, "What do we do? How do we overturn this nonsensical charade?"

"Er…without seeing the documents that have been prepared to support the proclamation," Audley stammers, "I cannot say with any certainty. Once we have those, then we shall know what has been done, and what can be done to overcome it."

"Then get them!" the Duke demands, furiously. Without another word, Audley flees.

"What does that black rook Cromwell expect to gain from this?" Rochford asks, speculatively, "The keeping of his head, obviously, but what else?"

"Power, you dolt." Norfolk snaps back, "What else would he demand? Other than riches for himself and his vile progeny? He has control of my niece, and control of my great-niece - and now a man of no account, of the lowest birth, rules this Kingdom! It is not to be countenanced!"

"Then he must be removed." Wiltshire says, with unnerving calmness, "Of all the men at the Council table, he is least worthy to be there - that is true; but he is cunning, and clever. That he has wormed his way back into my daughter's favour is surprising, but less so if it appears that it was he who was responsible for the removal of Elizabeth from her home. Control the child, and you control the mother."

"Then we have him removed." Rochford says, at once, "Arrested, attainted and to the block. Anne shall do as you command, father - she is your daughter and therefore must obey now that she is no longer her husband's possession."

"If she does not," Norfolk growls, "then I shall have him run through, damn him. A guttersnipe such as he deserves to be slaughtered like a hog in the gutter; but Rich is mine. I shall have him put to the instruments until he is driven insane, and then send him to the gallows a howling madman. I refuse to be so betrayed."

"We cannot be seen to act unlawfully." Wiltshire muses, "Regardless of the true legality of her act, to any who is not versed in statutes, she has acted within the law - thus if we act against her, she can plausibly claim us to be attempting to usurp her daughter's throne in favour of another candidate."

"There is no other candidate!"

"On the contrary, there are two - the Lady Mary, and the King's bastard. Her illegitimacy is questionable to some, perhaps, and his is absolutely true: but what is to prevent Anne from claiming that we are attempting to remove Elizabeth in favour of one or the other - freshly legitimised - in exchange for their favour? No, we must be more subtle than that. Much as it infuriates me to agree with Audley, we have no alternative but to wait for the documents that Anne must have to support the words that she spoke this morning. Then we shall declare them invalid, and the council shall refuse to accept her claim to be regent. Thus I shall have the proclamation redrafted, and all shall be made right again."

"And Parliament?" Rochford prompts.

"If she can ignore them, then so can I."

The King's private apartments are still full of his possessions - including the great wardrobe that holds an enormous array of the finest velvets, silks and satins, and a collection of jewels that dwarfs those that Anne possesses. She was rarely permitted to enter these hallowed chambers when they ruled - though she visited frequently before her marriage, when he fought so hard to capture her.

Her eyes sweep across all before her, the fine carpets, the rich wood wainscoting and furniture - and magnificently colourful tapestries from the great weavers of Flanders that each cost a small fortune to commission. Beside her, Elizabeth is equally entranced by such richesse, for even though she lived a highly privileged existence at her various houses outside London, she has never seen such luxury as this.

"Is this mine, Mama?" she asks, wide eyed.

"Yes, my precious," Anne whispers, softly, "yes, it is yours. Mr Cromwell," she turns, "would you be so kind as to arrange the removal of my late husband's personal effects to a chamber suitable for their safe keeping in accordance with the King's will - assuming there is such a document?"

Cromwell bows, "I shall see to it at once, Majesty. Is it your wish to occupy these apartments alongside her Majesty?"

"Yes, Mama!" Elizabeth says, at once, "Please stay with me!" Her voice is excited, but there is also a faint tinge of fear. She is barely more than babe - and her life has changed forever. What child would not want their mother nearby?

"Of course, my darling. Shall you appoint Lady Bryan as your new Chief Gentlewoman of your Privy Chamber? It is a most prestigious position, and she has been most good to you."

"What does that mean?" Elizabeth asks, keenly.

"It means that she shall be your most important personal attendant, for she cannot be your governess forever, as we must appoint a tutor for you. Thus she can remain at your side, and look after you as she has always done. Would you like that?"

Now that she has the assurance that her mother shall not leave, her excitement is tempered a little, and her answer is rather more sober, "I should like that very much, Mama."

The sound of a knock at the door causes everyone to turn, "Your Majesties," one of Anne's Ushers is standing at the door, "Mr Thomas Audley is without, seeking an audience."

Anne turns to Cromwell, who nods, "He has come to view the Acts, Majesty." He has anticipated this - though perhaps not as soon after the announcement as this, and the final draft - from which the fair copy was made - is easily secured. The last thing he wants is Norfolk getting his hands on the originals.

She nods, "Show him in, Matthew."

Audley is nervous, and not merely of the woman he is approaching. Norfolk shall expect him to now find a means to overturn the hard work of two highly talented legal minds - and he is not at all sure that he can do it. The chances of Cromwell making such an error is small enough as it is, but if the drafts have been reviewed by Rich as well, then small becomes impossible. How he shall find a way to crack that legal edifice and break it down, he has no idea.

"Majesty, I have come on behalf of his Grace of Norfolk. He asks that he be allowed to examine the legal documents pertaining to the proclamation of her Majesty Queen Elizabeth."

"I am sure that he does, Mr Audley." she smiles at him, "Please pass him my assurances that the Council shall be gathered after the midday meal on the morrow to view and discuss the Acts of Parliament that secure her Majesty Queen Elizabeth's right to rule, authorise her Coronation in view of her tender years, and authorise me to rule as Regent in her stead. If he can present himself alongside the rest of my late Lord's Council in her Majesty's Presence Chamber at the hour of two past noon, he shall be granted the opportunity to consider the legal basis upon which I have proclaimed my daughter Queen of England. In the meantime, it is my intention to supervise her Majesty's move into her new quarters."

Behind Audley, Cromwell's eyebrows rise - he had assumed that she would acquiesce to her uncle's order, but instead she has defied him. Politely, yes, but nonetheless it is a degree of defiance that is guaranteed to infuriate Norfolk; and with their position as precarious as it is, he is suddenly very nervous. She cannot afford to be so reckless…

Or can she? Her reasoning for the delay is so light, so - womanish - that he wonders whether the Councillors shall think her to be foolish and trivial. If they do, then they shall assemble on the morrow assuming that she shall simper and plead with them for their assistance and support - and thus they can dictate terms that shall remove all of her power, and place it in their own hands. Once, of course, they have stopped squabbling over who shall lead them.

Suddenly, he is astonished at her artifice, and her cleverness. Far from being dictated to by her feelings, she is using that assumption of womanish weakness as a weapon. God above, if they can hold the Kingdom, then she shall prove to be a magnificent ruler - and demonstrate to all men that her daughter is not a poor substitute for a boy.

Nervous as hell, Audley nods, bows and retreats; and Anne lets out a long sigh, "Do you think I deceived him?"

Cromwell nods, "I should say so. You deceived me for a brief while, Majesty."

Beside him, Rich looks very embarrassed.

"Much as it grieves me to have to do it, if I must play a mewling damsel to protect us, then I shall do it. My great hope is that I have given you time to secure Parliament for Elizabeth." She does not mention such acceptance for herself - perhaps she assumes it shall be forthcoming. Does she know how unpopular she is outside the palace? Perhaps she does - or perhaps not. God, another hurdle to be overcome…

"We shall make haste, Majesty." Cromwell bows, prompting Rich to hastily do likewise, "I know that the leading knights of the shire are present in London at this time, and they are the men to convince."

Anne nods. While Cromwell is despised within the Palace, she is not unaware of his efforts to improve the lot of those who are not so fortunate as to live in such privilege. Consequently, he is regarded with far greater respect by the men of St Stephen's than the Lords of the Council - and even Rich commands a degree of regard. If they cannot carry the day, then no one can.

Perhaps it is time for her to set her hostility aside - and begin to find a way to trust them.

The barge is one of the larger vessels, manned with sixteen oars, and a closed cabin for the passengers with velvet-upholstered benches along each bulkhead. Despite the ease with which they worked last night, the two men are not entirely comfortable in each others' presence, and thus they seat themselves on opposite sides of the cabin.

As the oarsmen push away from the privy bridge, Cromwell can see that Rich is looking rather resentful - and he cannot fathom why. Surely he is not regretting his choice to abandon Norfolk for the Queen? No - that would be madness if the threats he overheard were serious in their intent. Besides, knowing the Duke and his ways, Cromwell is quite convinced that, whatever punishment might have been awaiting Rich once he had outlived his usefulness, it shall be infinitely crueller now. Rich has many faults - but he is too shrewd to turn back to the ones who would destroy him. It must be something else.

"If we are to serve her Majesty, Mr Rich, we must do so to the best of our ability, and with absolute loyalty. Thus, if we are to earn her Majesty's trust, we must begin by earning one another's. The next few days shall be the most dangerous we have ever encountered. I cannot meet that danger if I cannot trust those with whom I am working - and I have no doubt that you face an equal challenge."

For a moment, it seems that Rich is not willing to respond, but instead sighs rather, and turns to Cromwell, "Did you know?"

"Know what?" Cromwell is bemused.

"That the Queen would behave towards Audley as she did." He looks embarrassed again - he had clearly been equally fooled by her behaviour.

"Not at first." Cromwell admits, "She did not confide in me that she would speak as she did - but as Audley's arrival was sooner than we expected, there was no time for me to advise her, and thus she extemporised. At the outset, I was as shocked as you. It was only as she continued to speak that I began to divine her intention."

Rich considers his admission awhile, "It seems that things shall be very different once we have secured the regency."

"Assuming that we can." Cromwell sighs, "Even the lack of a Stephen of Blois may not protect her. Or us. If we cannot hold the centre, then the country shall crumble into bloody civil war - just as it did for Matilda. We must carry the day with Parliament, or we are lost. Norfolk's power lies in his lineage and pedigree - benefits that you and I entirely lack. Thus we must do all that we can to bolster the Queen's legitimacy and right to rule. That we have the Succession to the Crown Act to aid us is helpful - for it enforces Elizabeth's succession in law."

"All who sit in the chapel of St Stephen have sworn the oath to the Succession, so we have that upon our side, too." Rich adds, more enthusiastic now, "Besides, they approved the Act that made it law. If they refuse to accept the accession of the Queen Elizabeth now, then they commit treason. While that might not be an impediment to Norfolk - as he sees himself as Lord Protector and thus does not deny the succession - it may well be the precise sticking point that shall secure the Parliamentary support that we need."

Cromwell nods, "I dispatched a messenger to Westminster yesterday seeking to meet with the commons as they are in session - but you are more frequently there than I - who would you recommend that we approach ahead of the gathering?"

"The Speaker, for choice - Humphrey Wingfield - he has links to Suffolk, but he is a loyal servant to the Kingdom. I think he shall aid us. Well," he looks embarrassed again, "he shall aid you. He despises me."

It seems that Rich has rather a large number of people to convince that he is no longer unworthy of trust.

Cromwell regards him awhile, as he transfers his attention from their fading conversation to the passing banks of the river, where fields stretch back towards woodland in the distance. As a man who has been quite intent upon advancement at any cost, Rich has truly earned that reputation. While he, Cromwell, has hardly won himself friends, his efforts have been rather more in the service of the Kingdom, and the King - efforts of a practical bent that improve the efficiency of government.

Or perhaps that is what he tells himself, because - at the most base level - they are not that different. He has never been able to find it in himself to like the man who sits opposite, but now he wonders if it is because, in Rich's unsavoury activities, he sees a reflection of his own.

He cannot afford to do so any longer - not if he wishes to survive. Throwing in their lot with Queen Anne has burned too many bridges for him to retreat should her claim to the Regency of England miscarry. Their only hope of keeping their heads should that occur would be to flee England entirely. Norfolk's plan for them both even had they chosen to ally with him makes that fate horribly clear. He wonders if he looks as pensive as Rich does. While he knows that he has far more courage than his colleague, he is hardly unafraid of what lies ahead - even if they carry the day with Parliament.

The river is not too high as they approach the towering bulk of London Bridge, and thus the waters are not rushing too much between the starlings upon which the piers are built, so the barge can pass under in safety. While he has prepared the ground for this, Cromwell remains uncertain that the men who have gathered shall accept Queen Anne as a Regent in preference to a Lord Protector. Queen Katherine was certainly an effective Regent - but she was accepted as such only because the King was overseas, and would return. His greatest bargaining tool is the respect in which they hold him - which could not be more different to the loathing he must deal with in the Palace - for he shall present himself as Queen Anne's foremost adviser, which shall offer them a greater influence with the Monarch than they have ever held before. If that fails to win them, then he has no understanding of human nature.

"What do you intend to offer them?" Rich asks, as though he has overheard Cromwell's thoughts, "They shall not grant their aid if there is nothing in return for it."

"What would you suggest?" He is keen to know if they are thinking along the same lines.

"Greater influence with the Queen, I think. Henry was a law unto himself at times, and look where that has led us. I think it would better for all if there were a closer co-operation between the Queen and her Parliament. The Council is powerful - but who amongst them cares so much as a fig for any but themselves and their privileges?" He pauses, and continues, clearly warming up to the subject, "We know that her Majesty the Regent is not loved by the people of England, and thus could find herself isolated should the people grant their love to another - such as Mary."

Cromwell is smiling now, "Indeed so. But - were we to give the people hope that their voices shall truly be heard, it is possible that they shall learn to love their Queen."

"Mother of the Realm." Rich finishes, mostly in jest.

"That is it - that is how we shall present her to the Commons." Cromwell leaps upon it, "We cannot pretend that she is a King in a gown, after all - so we shall create a maternal figure who shall nurture the Kingdom alongside the men of her Parliament. That is an excellent idea!"

Rich looks quite startled; he has never witnessed such open enthusiasm from his colleague before, "Do you think we can do it?" He asks.

"There is but one way to find out."

Humphrey Wingfield is a tall man of stocky build with a magnificently bushy beard and a bluff manner. Unlike many of those who meet in the choir stalls of the Chapel of St Stephen, he is fortunate to have a small chamber that serves as an office of sorts, and he busies himself clearing papers away from a brace of chairs and ushering his illustrious visitors to sit, "Forgive me, Sirs; while I knew that you were coming, I did not anticipate that you would come to see me beforehand."

Despite his courtesy, he is wary - particularly of Rich - but he says nothing of it as he seats himself, "I have spoken to the Commons of the grave tidings, sirs. What is to be done? I assume that is the reason for your visit."

Cromwell nods, "That is so, Mr Wingfield. Our concern is the protection of his Majesty's will as set out in the Act of Succession. Consequently, we seek the consent of Parliament to confirm legislation that shall secure the rights and inheritances of her Majesty Queen Elizabeth."

"And who is to be the Protector of the Realm?"

"Her Majesty the Dowager Queen Anne." Cromwell advises, blandly.

There is a rather unnerving silence.

"Queen Anne." Winfield repeats, with considerably less enthusiasm.

"Yes." Cromwell says, cheerfully.

"A woman."

"She is indeed." Rich agrees, with a bright smile that looks most strange given his reputation and character.

"You are proposing that England is ruled by a woman."

"That is so." Cromwell nods.

"England has never been ruled by a woman."

Cromwell fights not to roll his eyes - so many damned obvious statements, "There is always a first time, Mr Wingfield, and it is our wish that she do so with the full cooperation and involvement of the Commons. In view of the principle of starting as one means to continue, we are here to propose that - in exchange for approving the relevant Acts that shall underpin the structure of Her Majesty's rule, and her mother's Regency - the men of Parliament shall become a more formally constituted body of government, with equal standing to the men of her Majesty's Council."

Anne has not approved such an offer - but Cromwell knows that they cannot achieve the Parliamentary approval they need if they offer nothing in return. Besides, the transfer of some of the power to advise the Monarch from the Lords to people of ordinary stock such as himself is long overdue. The trick now is to ensure that the men of St Stephen's work with the Queen, rather than against her.

Wingfield considers Cromwell's words, and the pair watch him, a little nervously. That Elizabeth is now queen is not in doubt - for the King's Succession Act demands it - but whether they can win similar approval for Queen Anne to serve as Regent remains to be seen. If they cannot, then it shall be far, far harder to keep Norfolk at bay - and that shall be difficult enough as it is.

"Why not one of her Majesty's Lords?" he says, eventually.

"They are neither anointed nor crowned, Mr Wingfield. Queen Anne is both - our late Liege Lord set the crown of St Edward upon her head with his own hands, while Archbishop Cranmer anointed her. Thus she is more fit to rule in the eyes of God than one of the Lords of the Council. There is no requirement for a Lord Protector, for we have an anointed monarch to rule as regent until her Majesty Queen Elizabeth is of age. Additionally, she is the Queen's mother, and shall have a particular interest in maintaining the welfare and rights of her child."

"Or her own." Wingfield counters.

"Not if Parliament is granted the powers to act as a balancing weight. It is our intention to ensure that the Acts that shall be approved today shall offer appropriate checks and balances to ensure that the Queen Elizabeth shall rule the Kingdom in her own right from the day that she comes of age. Her Majesty Queen Anne has seen and approved these documents - and asks that you, as the representatives of her daughter's subjects, do likewise. If you do so, then it shall go some way towards preventing England from sinking once more into disastrous civil war that was only ended by the rise of the Queen Elizabeth's house."

"I see no such specifics listed here."

"That is the first task that shall be set before you." Cromwell answers, "The Acts do not preclude us from collectively forging an additional regulatory structure to establish the rights and privileges of Parliament alongside those of the Queen that you shall serve."

Now Wingfield looks interested, and Cromwell knows that he has found the prize that shall secure the approval they need. The vital thing now is to ensure that the men of Parliament do not over-reach themselves, and demand too much: but that is a battle for another day.

The debate takes nigh-on two hours, and - unsurprisingly - centres quite solidly upon the perception of Queen Anne as little better than a whore. Queen Katherine, of course, would have been able to navigate such a stream with far less difficulty - but the law that supports Elizabeth's succession, the oath they took to respect it, and the offer of a greater voice within the government of England are proving to be the clinching arguments, and even as the members rise to divide, it is clear to both Cromwell and Rich that their arguments have won the day, for the men standing to the right of the Speaker's chair in the Presbytery greatly outnumber those to the left.

"The ayes have it." Rich says, quietly, "Thank God for that. What would we have done had it been the noes?"

"Flee the country." Cromwell says, "That, or prepare for death, I think."

They have the approval of Parliament - and a written document to that effect shall be drawn up in the next hour. With that, as well as the Acts themselves, they can safely argue that any attempt to unseat Queen Anne shall be unlawful.

"Now we must find a way to present her to England." Rich says, "Mother of the Realm."

"Indeed so."

Lady Bryan is working her way through a long, long list of possessions that must be moved into the King's - now Queen's - apartments. How is it that her Majesty has accumulated such an enormous number of articles that she appears to be unable to live without?

Not that there is yet much in the way of room in those extensive chambers, of course. Most of the possessions here are those belonging to her late father. The Queen seems most excited by the sheer size of the apartments that are now hers to explore, and has not yet shown any apparent grief for the loss of the man who once occupied them. But she has seen little of her father in her short life, so perhaps he is too remote a figure for her to truly appreciate the bereavement.

Queen Anne is supervising the packing up of her late husband's possessions, intending to place them in secure storage while they attempt to find some form or other of Will. If they cannot, then it shall all pass to her, and Bryan assumes that they shall be sold off - though the Queen shall soften the blow of such a ghastly act by donating the proceeds to the poor. She is not fool enough to keep the money for herself. Not when she has all of England to win over.

"Where shall you sleep, my darling?" Anne asks Elizabeth, who is twirling upon the spot in the enormous bedchamber.

"Here, Mama!" she says, delightedly, "In the big, big bed - for I am the Queen!"

Anne smiles at her fondly, before wandering across to the great windows to look out across the fine ornamental gardens. In spite of his altogether less pleasant activities and predilections, Henry always appreciated beauty. That view, and the magnificence of the décor that surrounds her is evidence enough. How strange that he looked upon her and saw beauty - for she was the very opposite of all that the Court considered to be so. And he moved heaven and earth to make her his…

"Mama, why are you crying?"

Startled, Anne turns, blotting at her teary eyes as best she can with the back of her hand, "Forgive me, Elizabeth, I was thinking sad thoughts - but you are here now, and that makes me happier than anything in the world."

Taking her hand, Elizabeth leads her on yet another tour of the apartments - as though she has never seen them before. There is a substantial ante-chamber nearby that shall serve well as her own bedchamber - for despite its lesser status, it is nonetheless far better appointed than her previous bedchamber. Indeed, there is room not only for a child learning to govern a Kingdom, but also for her Regent - and sufficient space for them not to impinge upon one another's boundaries. Regardless of all, she is Queen only while her daughter cannot be. A time shall come when Elizabeth shall rule in her own right - and now she must do all that she can to ensure that the girl is prepared to do so.

So many boxes to fill…so much to remove. And then she must supervise the removal of her own possessions into her new home. Thank God they haven't been here long enough to warrant a removal to another Palace - that would be even more of an upheaval.

"Majesty." She turns to see Lady Rochford, whom she has tasked with overseeing the packing up of her rooms, "Lord Rochford is without, and wishes to speak with you."

Anne feels a small lurch of her stomach. Once, she would have assumed that he had come to spend time with her playing cards, or enjoying an evening's entertainment - but not now that he has allied with her uncle, "I shall see him in the outer Privy Chamber, Lady Rochford. Could you call in Lady Bryan to sit with the Queen?"

"Yes, Majesty." Jane curtseys, and withdraws to fetch Elizabeth's governess.

George is standing at the windows when she emerges, looking out at the fading daylight, "Father is angry, Anne."

She draws herself up, "And what is that to me, my Lord?" there is no doubt in her mind that he has been dispatched to demand concessions from her that shall favour his party.

"You're being ridiculous. You cannot rule this Kingdom - it is for men to do, and you know it."

What was it that Henry had once said? Leave the greater things to my care.

"Men shall aid me, George." She reminds him, calmly, "Capable, skilled men who understand the processes of government, and shall guide me as I carry the weight of England until Elizabeth is strong enough to bear it."

"What - Thomas Cromwell? He is a nobody - and you despise him! Why do you favour him now? What is he in comparison to men of means such as father, or Norfolk? No woman can rule - you know that to be so!"

"And does the law say so?" she retorts, "Where is the Salic law, George? What is there that demands that a woman cannot rule? I am strong enough to do it, and so shall Elizabeth be - for we shall share that burden with a council of wise heads and a parliament of good men to speak for the people who send them. Elizabeth shall rule as God's anointed Queen, advised by the finest minds of England, whether they be burghers or lords."

He looks at her as though she has gone entirely mad, "You would be advised by peasants?"

"If they be of sufficient ability, then yes." Anne is not entirely sure that she would truly be so willing to overturn the natural order of things, or that a labourer would be able to do such a thing even if offered the opportunity - but George has annoyed her to such an extent that she is more than willing to antagonise him in return. Besides, the look upon Norfolk's face would be an utter picture…

"Then you are a fool, Anne - a true fool. Your very words prove you incapable of ruling this Kingdom, and the Acts that you present to us are hardly valid, are they? The King is dead, and you have not sought the authority of parliament - not that it would matter if you had. Pretend that you rule for today, sister - but know that, from tomorrow, there shall be a Lord Protector, and it shall be Norfolk. Unless you can prove that parliament has approved your actions, which I doubt, it shall be a simple matter to declare them invalid - and do not think that you shall remain here to interfere once our uncle is protector. Tomorrow you shall have your foolish declarations overturned, and shall depart for Blickling. And be grateful that it is not the Tower."

"George - do not do this. You could hold a place upon my council and work with me to bring your niece to her rightful inheritance."

"Do you know what is to be done? Not only are you to depart from the Palace, but Cromwell shall die a traitor, and as for his weasel accomplice - he shall be dragged behind a cart and whipped to Tyburn, for he shall no longer be capable of walking once he has been sufficiently racked. Our Uncle does not forgive such betrayals, and neither do we - I shall be pleased to see the end of such upstarts - and none shall show such effrontery as they ever again."

Anne stares at him, shocked. God above, has he truly been so seduced by the offer of even the crumbs of power that he would blithely speak of such cruelties as though they were nothing? And, worse, he cares nothing that she would be forever kept away from her own child. Norfolk would do it without hesitation, she knows that; while her father would happily join with him…but George, too?

So be it - her family wishes to discard her. Then she shall fight for her child, and drive them from her presence; such dangerous men cannot be allowed to put Elizabeth's entire future at risk. She wishes that she was not required to act so brutally - but she has no choice.

If she does not defeat Norfolk, then she is lost.

A/N: A quick note about Parliament. In Henry's day, it was still rather an ad hoc institution that met infrequently at the command of the Sovereign. The members had originally met in the chapter house of Westminster Abbey, until the Abbot turfed them out, and they were given the Chapel of St Stephen in the Palace of Westminster as an alternative. Being required to use the choir stalls, they sat facing one another, instead of 'in the round' as they had in the Chapter House, and they still do that today. The chapel was lost in the fire of 1834, but it's possible to follow its position if you go in through the Public entrance (either on a tour or to meet with your MP), which also gives a spectacular view of the Hall, which is all that remains of the Medieval palace complex.

Thanks to their location, it was known at the time as 'St Stephen's' as referred to in the Chapter; and that old name still lives on in the Welsh word for the UK Parliament: San Steffan.