Chapter 21 – In which I killed Anne

"And you truly believe it is necessary?" George Boleyn still wouldn't buy my words even after I had explained everything to him. "This is beyond dangerous, Your Highness, I don't think I need to tell you. Why risk it all? Even if there was a plot afoot, I can hardly believe anyone would convince the King to kill my sister or disinherit his only legitimate son."

I wanted to believe him so very much. I, too, had hoped that having a son would protect Anne. But my last conversation with the King had sowed the seeds of doubt, for I had seen the angers and passions in his eyes. He didn't always think before it was too late, and that was what my enemies wished to use for their advantage.

"Perhaps. But His Majesty must do as he will, and if he wills it so, matters will proceed without you or I being able to hinder them. I was merely considering our chances, my Lord," I tried to convince him. "If this plan succeeds, we'll all be safe, and more. Our enemies will be crushed. If it fails, we'll be hanged. But, you see, we'll also end up hanged if our enemies prevail, or worse. And what would be the best outcome if they prevailed? Your sister banished, divorced, banned to a nunnery? My siblings legitimate, yet without a mother? Your reputation destroyed, along with that of several other innocent men? Is this the world you want to live in, if the King allows you to live at all?"

"Anne doesn't deserve any of this," George simply replied.

"Then you must risk everything you have in order to save it all. I'm doing the same."

He sighed deeply. "We'll be haunted forever by what we mean to do. So many lies… And making it happen will be no easy feat. How am I to convince my sister?"

"Alas, my Lord, this is why I asked your help. Only you can make her see reason. I trust you absolutely in this and shall pray for your success."

I actually prayed. If there was a god, I wasn't sure he would countenance my plan, but I would certainly need his good will. Basically, all I could do was set things in motion and hope that I was cleverer than my enemies. My trump card would be my imagination and sense of drama. Unlike the Tudor era folk, I had read myriads of books and watched even more TV series and films. I knew enough plots and ploys and twists to draw inspiration from. Today, no one would probably fall for the trap I wanted to set. But the Tudors, having never seen the trick before, might just believe it.

"So you have made up your mind, then," Anne Stanhope concluded.

I nodded. "Have you made sure your brother-in-law was where we need him?"

"Yes, I ensured he'd meet his latest mistress there. Although I should love to ask why, I assume I had better not ask. Less I know, less I can talk."

"My thoughts exactly. I shall leave for Hatfield tomorrow, accompanying the Queen to see my brother and sister. When the time has come, I'll send an urgent message to Lady Fitzroy. It'll also include my firm suggestion she check for your health and that of baby Anne, of which I'm sure she'll do it straight away. She's a sweet and loyal lady. So, once you have spoken to Lady Mary, you'll know the game is afoot."

"And what am I to do, then?"

"Try and tell the King about a heinous plot. He'll probably not receive you, so you'll try to tell Cromwell, if possible in the vicinity of witnesses. If he refuses, too, you'll tell the Duke of Suffolk. He won't refuse you, I'll make sure of it. Tell him you overheard your husband saying that his brother would soon 'have that harlot who calls herself queen' and that they would now 'finish what they had begun with her miscarriage'. You can be creative about the wording."

I expected her to protest, as any sane person would have, but she didn't. Instead, she just nodded. "It wouldn't even be a full lie."

"No, it wouldn't," I agreed. "Do not fret if Suffolk does not give you credence at first, or if, God forbid, he tells and thus angers the King. Even if you are put under house arrest, there is no reason to trouble yourself. You'd soon be set free, I promise you. It is all part of our game."

"And if we win, you can assure me I shall not be dragged down with my traitorous husband?"

I smiled. "You are assuring it yourself by informing the King. After we're through with this, he'll scold himself for not listening to you and see you as angel. He'll compensate you, of that I'm certain."

"Then I'll wait for the Lady Fitzroy," Anne concluded matter-of-factly. "Good luck to you, Your Highness, for whatever you wish to do."

She had no idea.

On a nice, sunny day in May 1536, Queen Anne and I visited my sweet siblings at Hatfield. Seeing them almost broke my heart, for I knew what I would have to do to them. It was for their own good, I tried to tell myself, but it was hard. Anne, too, felt the pain of having to let them go. She was privy to the plot, since she had the greatest part to play, and thus knew she would not see her beloved children in a long time. Watching her fight against tears while cuddling with Elizabeth made me question my plan. But it was too late now.

We left the royal children with Lord Suffolk, who had been forced to accompany us on behalf of the King. I assumed he was there to make sure Anne didn't misbehave in front of them, but now that we just wanted to stroll through the gardens and forests, he couldn't care less about the Queen. He'd never liked her, after all.

So the Queen, I, and several of our ladies went outside. My heart was already beating like a hammer. We'd never had a chance to play through this before. There was only chance for Anne, George and me, and we had to make it count spot on. Improvisation, yay!

"Ho!"

They surrounded us with horses. Masked men armed with swords and daggers, looking every bit as terrifying as I had hoped they would. For a second, I was actually frightened, but then the thrill of seeing my masterpiece come to life took over.

Our ladies panicked. They tried to flee, but were far too slow in their heavy dresses. Within no time, they bandits had encircled us.

"I demand to know what your intentions are," Anne told the men ever calmly. I had to admire her composure.

"That's her! That's the Queen," one of the bandits remarked.

"Take her," another yelled.

The ladies shrieked as two men approached the Queen. One lady almost fainted as Anne pushed her aside to face the men.

"If you find that you have business with me, good sirs, so be it then. But my ladies have nothing to do with this. Let them go."

I watched in awe as she held her head high. I had not seen her this determined and fierce ever since she had lost my second brother. Trembling, my maid Cecily clung to my arm as we both waited for the bandits to discuss Anne's demand.

"Fine," one of them shouted. "Have them leave."

They began to run straight away, but when Cecily and I turned to leave, a rider intercepted us.

"Not you!"

"We cannot allow the Princess to get away. She'd get us in trouble," one of the men told their leader under his breath, but loud enough for us to hear.

I looked at Cecily, nodding into the direction to where the other women had fled. Her face was distorted with fear, but she shook her head nevertheless.

"I cannot leave your side," she whispered.

"Let the Princess go, she has done nothing wrong," Anne interjected haughtily. "Your quarrel lies with me, not with her."

Cecily and I tried to leave again, but now the rider drew his sword and pointed at us.

Several of the bandits appeared to be shocked by this. "Sir Thomas, you can't…"

"Silence!" Their leader seemed angry now that his name had been given away.

Really, I had to take a second and appreciate these actors George Boleyn had found. Where on Earth had he stumbled upon such talented people? And how much had he bribed them with to leave the country afterwards and never return? Had he told them that it was the actual Queen and Princess of England they were threatening, that this could be considered treason? Or did they think it was all just a game? I would never know, as George and I had agreed to share no more information than was necessary. He knew nothing of Anne Stanhope, I nothing of these actors. Still, I had to admire the effort he'd put in it. What a show!

'Sir Thomas' coughed angrily. "She will not get in the way of my plans. The Princess stays. Send her maid away."

A man came to grab Cecily, but she clung to me crying: "No, I won't leave! I won't leave!"

He tried to pull her away. I had not anticipated her fierce loyalty, but it made playing my role so much easier.

"Stop it, please! I beg you, for the love of God, show mercy," I pleaded with the men.

Anne, too, was shouting now. She grabbed the man by his arm, but he shook her off. "Leave her be! I am the Queen of England, I command you to!"

"Silence, harlot! You are no longer giving orders to anyone," 'Sir Thomas' shouted back. "Lads, grab the wench and take her. The pyre's been lit. We can't wait anymore."

Furious, Anne swirled around and threw a stone from the ground at 'Sir Thomas'. Obviously, George hadn't told him about that part, because he seemed every bit as surprised as he was supposed to appear. The rock hit him hard, almost knocking him off his horse. His men began to shout and yell and storm towards Anne.

"Run," she ordered me and Cecily.

I looked at her one last time, very briefly, and I could see she had finally accepted what would come next. We wouldn't see each other in a long time.

Then I ran. I grabbed Cecily's arm and ran as fast as my legs would carry me. I stumbled and staggered, always hastily turning around to see if we were still being followed. Of course we weren't, but it felt so real. Cecily, too, was panting as if she were drawing her last breath. She was also still crying. We heard Anne scream once more, loudly and painfully, before we eloped into the woods. I don't remember how we made it back to Hatfield, but suddenly the clearing of the gardens appeared before us.

Lord Suffolk had apparently been informed, for he had mustered a guard on horseback and was riding straight towards us.

"My lord, my lord," Cecily cried.

Suffolk dismounted his horse as he drew closer, just in time for me to dramatically stumble and fall into his hands. By now, I was crying too, but mostly from exhausting.

"Your Highness! What has happened?"

"The Queen! It's the Queen," I sobbed into his arms. "Uncle Charles, they've taken the Queen! Men with swords!"

"They were going to hurt the Princess, too," Cecily added distressed before one of the guards came to hold her. "Please, the Queen… they've taken her…"

"Who? What happened? Mary, you must tell me," Suffolk said hastily, even forgetting to address me formally.

I sobbed once more as I looked into his face. "Men, Uncle Charles. One of them was called Sir Thomas. He wanted to take the Queen… and he said something about a pyre. Please, he can't mean it, can he? Uncle Charles… the Queen…"

Then I fainted. Not truly, of course, but I simply dropped into his arms assuming he would catch me. Fortunately, he did. The hustle around me grew louder. Shouts and commands danced around me. I allowed it all to wash over me, simply pretending to be blacked out, and prayed that Anne and the actors had long since left the woods. My work was done. I could only hope.

Later that day, I found myself lying in a bed at Hatfield. They'd brought me a soup and some ale, but I refused it. I asked the servants to tell me about the Queen, yet they only exchanged dark glances. Even when I asked more thoroughly, there was no answer. I had expected that, so I asked for Cecily to be brought to me. She was an image of tears.

"Oh Your Highness, Your Highness," she sobbed as she knelt beside my bed. "I am so happy that you are alive and well. When you fell… I was so worried."

Gently, I patted her head and smiled weakly. "Oh, sweet Cecily, you are too kind. You should not have stayed with me. It was so dangerous."

"I couldn't have left you alone, my Princess," she insisted. "A maid without her mistress has no honor. And to think what they could have done to you…"

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"Cecily, what happened to the Queen? Has the Duke of Suffolk found her?"

She refused to look me in the eye, so I touched her chin to raise it.

"Cecily?"

"Your Highness, I… I am not allowed to speak of it, not while you're so weak…"

I raised an eyebrow. "On whose command?"

"My Lord Suffolk's."

"Well, and I command you to tell me. I'm the King's daughter and your mistress. Will you refuse me?"

She seemed heart-broken and absolutely terrified. For a second, I regretted putting her through this, but what she had experienced, she'd soon tell anyone who'd listen. And yes, there would be many who would listen.

"Your Highness, they… they found a pyre. It was… burned… down. The men were gone."

I tried to appear shocked. "And the Queen?"

Cecily began to cry again and shook her head. I asked no more questions that day, but simply held her as she cried.

Only a few days later, word was out in the countryside and soon everyone in England knew: the prophecy had come true. A queen of England had been burned at the stake, but not the way they had expected it. She hadn't been punished for her crimes; she had been brutally killed by ruthless men. She had been murdered.

Oh, I couldn't wait to return to court and see the King's face.