"For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
so shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth"
(Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet)
Henry hesitated outside his daughters chambers. He sighed to himself and told himself that it was just Mary behind those doors, but he wasn't afraid to admit that he hardly knew his daughter. She was lost to him, and if he did not try to bring her back from her destructive path, he was sure she would be lost to him forever. It pained him to see her so angry and jealous, and was angry with himself, that if he had paid more attention to her, and took her away from Katherine's influence, she might not have turned out this way. He was doing this for Anne, and their unborn child, part of him wanted to lock his daughter up and never allow her to leave, but he loved her as much as he feared her.
He motioned to the guard, who opened the doors to her main chamber and announced his presence. Mary was sat near the window, with a book in her hand dressed in her customary black, and her dark hair pinned and hidden by a Spanish hood. She rose upon seeing her father and curtseyed as was customary and kept her eyes down.
'Your majesty.' She murmured.
'I came to see you,' Henry replied and crept a little closer to her.
'As you wish,' Mary replied, rising and gesturing for her father to seat himself.
'How are you?' Henry asked.
Mary snorted slightly and looked at her father with something close to disdain and disbelief. Henry sighed, of course he knew how she was, she was miserable and distressed and he could not do anything to relieve it.
'I am sad, and I miss my mother,' Mary replied.
'I would allow you to see her, if you accepted Anne as Queen,' Henry replied then cursed himself remembering Anne's advice to keep the conversation pleasant and boring.
'My mother would rather me stay away than submit,' Mary replied.
'I think Katherine would want you happy,' Henry replied.
'My mother is a proud lady,' Mary replied.
'Yes, I always admired that about her,' Henry tried hoping to meet her in the middle.
'Did you love her?' Mary asked hesitantly. Henry stared at his daughter in distress, how could he explain to her Katherine's lies, how could he explain the misery and distress she had brought him without making things worse.
'I believe that I did,' Henry replied.
'I remember,' Mary whispered with tears in her eyes, 'I was young but I remember, we were happy, and then you changed.'
'What I felt for your mother, was infatuation and admiration, but slowly I came to see that her lies had dire consequences, on not only myself but our entire family and even this kingdom' Henry replied.
'My mother would never lie to you,' Mary insisted.
'But she did, she admitted it to me, she consummated her marriage with my brother Arthur, she loved him very much, I see now that the way she used to look at him, is the same way that I look at Anne, I thought that in marrying her she would show me that love also, but she never did, not like that. She lied and it cost me greatly, she was and always will be my brother's wife' Henry replied.
'The pope gave you a dispensation to marry my mother!' Mary replied.
'Under the understanding that the marriage was not consummated,' Henry said.
'She loved you!' Mary cried.
'She loved her station more and she was willing to sacrifice all of our dead children to keep it,' Henry said.
'My mother had no control over that,' Mary replied.
'Katherine comes from a long line of fertile women, her very symbol is the pomegranate meaning fertility, but we broke God's law, and she did so knowingly and he punished her for that, which also punished me,' Henry replied.
'You had me!' Mary exclaimed.
'Yes, and I love you very much,' Henry said 'but you are a daughter, and your health is unreliable, your temper volatile.'
'I am what you made me!' Mary cried.
'No, you are what your mother made you!' Henry replied.
'We will never agree on this will we?' Mary suddenly said and her shoulders slumped and her face lost its animation.
'I do not see how,' Henry replied 'If you would just talk to Anne, get to know her, I am not asking for you to view her as a mother. But have a conversation with her, and you will see that she is a loving intelligent woman who is carrying your future sibling.'
'I can't!' Mary spat.
'Mary!' Henry begged.
'She is a Lutheran father!' Mary cried 'She will tear this country apart, already you have broken from Rome and Spain is at your doorstep. She is from the devil and her spawn is his child!'
Henry closed his eyes at her words and shook his head as tears slipped from his eyes. He had tried his best, he had done as Anne had begged, but he couldn't stand to listen to his only chid insult the woman he loved, the person who was most important to him in this world.
'I do not see how we can ever be reconciled if you keep these views,' Henry replied.
Mary stood and knelt in front of her father and cupped his cheek in her hand daringly, 'Have faith father, God will rid us of this plight and restore goodness and purity to this country.'
Henry shoved her hand away and stood towering over her knelt form, 'No child, God is on my side and on my Queen's. He has forsaken you.'
Henry stepped around her and without looking back he excited her chambers and strode from her rooms as fast as his feet could carry him. He could not stay there anymore and see the crazed look on his daughter's face. He did not believe she would actively try to harm Anne, but he definitely believed that she would conspire with others. His daughter was clever and her passion for Catholicism was extreme.
He was afraid.
Anne heaved as her stomach rolled and she vomited into the chamber pot and Nan stroked her back and pressed a cold compress to her forehead.
'Should I call for the doctor?' Nan asked.
'No, I'm sure this is perfectly normal,' Anne replied having heard of this sickness that pregnant ladies often had to endure. She was nearly six months pregnant and had expected this during her first months but had been blissfully lucky. But now it seemed her luck had ran out.
'You are so pale your majesty,' Nan worried.
Anne fell back onto her bed and rubbed at her stomach, she worried over her child's stillness as she had yet to feel movement.
'I do feel rather unwell,' Anne replied feeling sorry for herself.
'I am going for doctor Linacre!' Nan said and left without waiting to hear Anne's reply.
A whimper drew her attention as Arabella jumped onto the bed and heaved her huge furred body until she was lying next to Anne and offered her head to be scratched. Anne knew Henry did not like Bella on the bed, but she welcomed the comfort from her dog. She was so attentive and had an almost human look in her eyes, as if she understood everything but had not the words to express herself.
'Well, I never heard that pregnancy was easy,' Anne laughed to which Bella mewled in reply. Anne leaned back and allowed her eyes to drift close, safe in her protector's presence.
Brereton hesitantly slipped into the Queen's chambers. He had watched from an alcove as Anne's loyal maid had ran out of her chambers, and suddenly he felt that this was his chance. The witch was alone, and vulnerable. From his sleeve her produced a dagger and quietly opened the door to her chambers and walked on in silent footsteps. He knew that the best way to avoid detection was not try to. Hesitancy caused nervousness, which caused mistakes. His steps were assured and well placed as he waked silently through her chambers.
He had been waiting for days for the opportunity, thankful that his position in the Queen's household meant that he would have ample opportunity to do so. However the King's paranoia had meant that he had not had as many chances as he would have liked.
Stepping into her bedchamber he gazed around the room, the air smelt sickly, and hot, and he realised that the demon spawn inside of the witch must be causing her havoc, and he rejoiced in her discomfort. The sheer drapes around the enormous bed were drawn and although the material was expensive, it was sheer and indulgent and he could see her form from behind it and the soft rise of her chest as she breathed in sleep.
This was it, God was calling him. He felt it, the anticipation and the euphoric like feeling that rushed through him as he crept closer to his goal. He could almost hear the whispers of God's angels urging him on, encouraging him forwards. Stepping up onto the raised platform he reached forward a hand towards the drapes and hesitantly drew them back.
The sight before him almost caused him to cry out in alarm. The whore's great beast laid next to her, its head resting on the devil spawn in protection. But it was also asleep and he sighed in relief, he knew that the enormous beast would overpower him and could not understand why the whore saw such an attraction to the thing. It was hulking and ugly and not at all what he would have pictured the witch choosing as a companion. But it seemed the evil in her was drawn to equally ugly things.
God was on his side however, his angels had assured his success by luring them both into sleep.
Now was his chance.
He leaned over and raised the sharp dagger and admired it as it glinted in the sunlight that spilled into the room. He looked down at his prey and her image almost dazzled him. The witch was undoubtedly beautiful, with her raven hair spilled out behind her, her face pale and her dark lashes spread onto her cheeks. She looked almost lifeless in her sickly state but to Brereton it was almost alluring and arousing to see her in such a state. A state he had desired for so long, to see her lifeless and cold and pale.
This was God's will.
Raising the dagger ever higher, he took in a deep breath.
…
The door to her bedchamber slammed against the wall and Brereton stashed the dagger quickly as Anne shot up and her bitch jumped to its feet with its legs over Anne's, crouching over its mistress protectively.
Thinking quickly Brereton stooped and picked up the chamber pot full of vomit and assumed a worried expression.
Bella growled and barked and shifted forwards with her teeth snarled backwards.
'What on earth is going on?'
Boleyn pulled back the drapes to assess the situation. Anne was on her bed looking dazed with a menacing Bella crouched over her and one of her manservants stood holding a pot of what smelt like vomit and a confused expression on his face. Nan and Linacre came into view also to see what had occurred.
'My lord?' Brereton asked confused.
'What are you doing in here?' He shouted.
'Her majesty was ill I was attending her,' he murmured with a panicked fearful voice and nodded his head to the chamber pot before him.
'Papa, enough you will scare the poor boy,' Anne spoke.
'He shouldn't be in here on his own,' Boleyn accused glaring at the servant.
'He's just doing his job,' Anne insisted.
'You shouldn't be alone!' Boleyn cried.
'I wasn't, Bella was here,' Anne replied.
'What is happening here?'
Henry strode into the room and assessed the situation. All of the occupants bowed even Brereton, whilst almost comically and precariously holding his burden.
'Nothing, my love,' Anne assured him and held out a hand for him to come to her.
Henry obeyed immediately and almost ran forwards to place a kiss on his Queen's fevered forehead.
'You are sick?' He questioned.
'I fear so,' Anne replied.
'What happened?' Henry asked.
'I have been sick all morning, Nan left for the doctor, and William here was cleaning up,' Anne replied.
'She was alone!' Boleyn insisted, 'he shouldn't be in here alone.'
'I can assure you my lord that William Brereton is a trusted servant, the man is simply doing his duty, and besides Bella here would protect my Queen,' Henry laughed and ruffled the great dog's mane.
Boleyn sighed and surveyed the servant convinced something was amiss. He had always prided himself on having a great judge of character. It was one of the reasons he made such a good ambassador. There was something off about this young man, he appeared far too dim and innocent to him, but the King trusted him, and besides the young man was clearly devoted to come actively looking to clean up his daughters mess.
'Get out!' he ordered to the boy, who quickly bowed to everyone and rushed from the room.
'There is no need to worry so Papa,' Anne laughed.
'I am your father, it is my duty too,' he replied.
'First time for everything I suppose,' Anne snapped back.
The room became quiet as everyone looked at him. Her words hurt him, but he knew they were just and on point. He had never cared before, only so long as she brought him fortune and power. He did not know what had changed, whether it was the thorough beating the King had given him, or seeing his daughter sit upon the throne. Or the fact she was carrying his grandchild. His heart had been thawed, and he now had a lifetime to make up his misdeeds. Not only to Anne but to Mary and George also.
He bowed to the couple and quickly strolled from the room.
Linacre hesitantly stepped forwards and examined Anne. He assured her it was perfectly normal to experience symptoms at differing points throughout her pregnancy. And assured her that no two pregnancies were ever the same. He gave her a tonic to soothe her stomach and recommended ginger to her diet to help with the nausea.
Henry watched as Linacre finished his duties and left along with Nan and then pulled a reluctant Bella by the collar off of the bed, annoyed that she was taking his place.
'Be nice to her!' Anne laughed.
'Nice, I am far too nice to the thing that is taking up all of my wife's affections,' Henry laughed.
'She is just protective,' Anne returned.
'She's not the only one it would seem,' Henry relied referring to her father.
'Yes,' Anne sighed 'I shouldn't have said that.'
'Yes you should, you should not forgive him so easily,' Henry assured her and ran a hand over her hair.
Anne leaned back into his hand and closed her eyes trying to distract herself from the discomfort she felt.
'I will have to have words with my son for causing my Queen such distress!' Henry laughed and ran a hand over her rounded stomach.
There was nothing more arousing to him to see Anne heavy with his child. Although sick and not looking her best, he was still stunned by her beauty. She would be beautiful no matter what she looked like, it was her soul and spirit that called to his.
'I think he has his father's stubborn nature and might not listen!' Anne replied.
Henry laughed and shifted so his head was in line with her belly.
'I am the king of England and your lord and master and I demand you cease tormenting my wife!' Henry instructed running his hand over her again.
Anne suddenly shot up with a yelp and her hand covered his.
'What was that?' Henry asked, shocked at the feeling he had gotten through his hand.
'I can feel him!' Anne laughed, tears coming to her eyes.
They both gasped again as they felt their child kick at their joined hands.
'Be strong my son!' Henry whispered, 'be strong.'
'It's magical,' Anne whispered.
Henry understood her completely. He had never felt anything like it before. Katherine had hidden herself away throughout all of her pregnancies, even in the beginning months. He had not seen her, nor felt their children move. He had been permitted after the birth and that was it. Bessie Blount had been confined far away from the court to avoid gossip as she was carrying his bastard child. It seemed to him that the man's role in pregnancy was to be far away from the mother and child for as long as possible.
But Anne defied convention again, she rejoiced in his closeness and he loved that she wanted to share this experience with him. She was not selfish but instead was loving and he felt love like he had never felt before flow through him for the child growing inside his wife's stomach. He was involved, he had felt his unborn child's movements. It was truly a feeling he would never forget.
'Thank you,' he whispered and kissed her cheek and forehead; anywhere he could reach.
'You do not have to thank me Henry,' Anne whispered.
'I do,' Henry replied 'I have a lot to thank you for.' Henry insisted.
'You have given me everything, it is only right that I give everything back in return,' Anne replied.
Henry smiled and kissed her lovingly and held her close, their hand's still joined as they both fell into a light slumber with Bella as a lookout.
Brereton stormed into his small quarters. It was one room, with a small pallet for his bed, below the window which was draped in black was his altar which he had fashioned from his chest of drawers, by covering it in a white sheet and placing his religious ornaments on top. His crucifix was crude and wooden, and his representation of Christ was not the best. But there was a Latin bible that had cost most of his salary which was his prized possession.
Why had God forsaken him so?
He shrugged off his shoes and gasped at the chill the stone floor gave to his naked feet, walking forwards he fell to his knees by his altar and crossed himself.
'Forgive me father, for I have failed you,' he whispered.
He prayed for a sign of how to proceed, all his efforts and been thwarted. The devil was strong with the whore. He knew God had power to defeat him, but her power far exceeded his own. He begged for Christ to lead him.
He began to pray, quietly whispering words with his hands clasped.
'I can do all things through that which Christ has strengtheneth me. God hath both raised up the Lord, and will also raise up me by his own power. For the kingdom of God is not in word, but in power. Be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. For I am God's servant for England's good. Thou who hast done wrong be afraid, for I shall not bear the sword in vain. For I am the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God's wrath on the wrongdoer.'
He finished his prayers and quietly knelt waiting for an answer. Slowly an understanding came upon him and he opened his eyes. He was not worthy of the task yet. He had to prove to God that he was his chosen servant. That he was worthy enough of the task before him. God could not entrust this to anyone. It had to be someone who was proven to be worthy.
Standing he shed his shirt and stood straight, his naked back shivering in the cold air of his small chambers. Walking towards the altar he withdrew from its drawers a long whip with woven leather straps which had embedded on its tails sharp metal fragments which would cut into his skin.
Silently he crossed himself and closed his eyes and remembered that Christ had suffered far more than himself for the good of mankind and Christendom, he would only begin to touch upon the pain and sacrifice that his Lord Jesus had performed. Flinging the whip backwards he refused to cry out as the straps cut into his back, creating a delicious burn.
'I can do all things through him who strengthens me,' he whispered panting slightly.
He struck himself again grunting through the stinging pain.
' he spoke staring into the face of Jesus upon his crucifix, willing himself to be worthy.
The whip cut into his back again bringing with it the sharp sting of pain.
'O Lord; attend to my cry! Give ear to my prayer from lips free of deceit! From your presence let my vindication come! Let your eyes behold the right! You have tried my heart, you have visited me by night, you have tested me, and you will find nothing; I have purposed that my mouth will not transgress. My steps have held fast to your paths; my feet have not slipped. '
Once again he flung the whip over his shoulder harder and harder, all the while muttering his prayers in between and feeling power flow through him. Eventually he fell to his knees and stared up into the face of his lord his hands outstretched wide in the shape of a cross with blood tracing down his back.
He felt the pain, but it was glorious, the darkness of his room was obliterated as light filtered through the black coverings and sunlight spilled across his bloodied torso. His eyes were closed, an expression of euphoria on his face as he felt God's power flow unto him.
'I am your angel,' he whispered and kissed his hand and crossed himself once again.
He dressed himself again without tending to his back and replaced the items to his altar. He had proven himself worthy, and he would not lose faith. His task would be completed. He was an angel sent from God and his will would be done.
Hope you like it!