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)
Cromwell looked on at the man in disgust. He had held out well to the pain he had inflicted on him at first, but Cromwell could see the cracks beginning to appear. It wasn't the screams that gave it away, but the fear in his eyes and the look of apprehension and despair of what he knew was to follow. It wasn't just the pain that broke a man, it was in the waiting, of the long moments between the pain and that blessed moment of air, and relief, where your thoughts could return to you and collect yourself. It was in the knowing that it wasn't going to stop, that it was going to happen again, and knowing that you had no control over it.
Cromwell could see the total fear as he circled the man slowly, patiently, confident in his ability to get the man to talk. Normally this gruesome task would have been done by some lesser executioner, but Cromwell had seen to Brereton himself. This was not some common thief or murderer, this man had tried to kill The Queen of England, a woman who was essential to the reformation of England and the true religion.
He had stripped him first, making him vulnerable and had been shocked when he had seen the welts on his back, obviously self inflicted. He took notice of the hair shirt he wore also, and sighed to himself as he realised he had a devout catholic on his hands. Such men were not sane and caused themselves excruciating pain believing themselves closer to God that way. It was nonsense of course, but it made Cromwell's life that little bit more difficult if the man had already experienced such pain before.
He was muttering to himself, the same words over and over, some verse in latin from the Catholic bible, but his words stumbled with every circle that Cromwell made around him.
'This doesn't have to continue William, tell us of your accomplices and I am sure his majesty will offer you a painless death,' Cromwell assured him.
'Jesus Christ our lord and saviour returned to heaven through pain and suffering, so shall it be for his servants,' Brereton replied.
'I can assure you with all certainty that no God will forgive the sin of the attempted murder of a woman and an unborn child,' Cromwell said.
'God gave me this task,' Brereton responded.
'I am sure that you think so,' Cromwell replied.
He circled once more and this time lightly scraped his sharpened dagger around the mans neck drawing a circle of blood around his throat, not enough to cause significant damage but enough to hurt. It looked almost as if he had been beheaded and then had his head sewn back on, a symbol that did not go unnoticed by the now whimpering man.
'Last chance,' Cromwell offered.
When no answer was forthcoming Cromwell stepped forwards and blindfolded the man. Hidden behind him where he couldn't see, was a deep pool of water. Cromwell suspected that pain would not get the man to talk, but fear, and immobility might just do the trick.
He motioned to two men who stood guard against the door, who together picked up the man who was firmly attached to the chair with his hands and feet bound and moved him towards the large deep trough that was filled with dirty water.
'They say that drowning is supposed to be a peaceful death...perhaps you will be able to tell me,' Cromwell whispered into the man's ear who jumped in surprise.
The blindfold dulled the senses and heightened the fear of the unknown. He heard the deep breathing of the man increase sounding almost extremely loud in the depth of the dungeon in the Tower. His breaths echoed off the walls and Cromwell's lips wrinkled in disgust as he likened the sound to that of a pig.
Cromwell nodded to the men who was holding the still seated Brereton and they dropped the man still bound to the chair forwards into the trough. The weight and the bounds of the chair kept him immobile and unable to come up for air. The water was also freezing cold, adding to the discomfort.
Cromwell observed the thrashing and the sounds of the water splashing and slowly counted to thirty in his head and then nodded to the men who dragged him out by the back of the chair.
Brereton gasped and coughed and moaned, the biggest reaction Cromwell had out of the man so far and he smiled knowing that he had made the right choice.
'That was just a taster,' Cromwell stated, whispering again into the man's ear. 'I can do this all day, I will bring you to the brink of death time and time again, you will feel the agony of the water flooding your body and just as you are about to meet your lord, I will bring you back.'
Brereton moaned in distress and began to thrash and gasped out pleas for it to end.
'Tell me who you are working for?' Cromwell asked.
Brereton breathed heavily and shivered in the cold of the dungeon and hesitated before answering.
'I work for God,' He replied.
He turned to the two guards who nodded and picked up the chair again and threw him into the water.
Cromwell smiled at the thrashing, he would have an answer sooner or later, he would crack eventually.
Anne held her boy towards her and sniffed at his skin, she had still not been allowed out of bed, but she was content to hold her new baby boy. She had wanted a girl, but now that she held her precious boy in her arms she was simply happy that he was alive and healthy. For an unbearable moment she had been sure he was to die with her.
She closed her eyes in pain, still feeling the rope around her neck and watching as blood slowly seeped out of her father's body. She heard Arabella's soft whimpers as life slowly left her, her body dying from the sacrifice she had made for her mistress.
Her son's soft cry drew her out of her thoughts and she clutched him to her breast tighter watching in wonder as he drew milk and life from her body. Never had she felt such profound pure love in her life. She was the mother of this child, this Prince and the thought moved her profoundly. She leant down and kissed his soft skin closing her eyes in relief as she felt him tug at her breast.
He was alive and well and strong. She had given Henry everything she had promised and in doing so had almost lost everything. But she had persevered once again, God had looked out for her and had saved her and her child. Surely the young Prince was destined for great things.
Anne looked up into the smiling face of Henry who was gazing at the two of them with awe and love. She smiled in reply and felt another wave of fierce love and devotion wash through her. She had never asked, never dreamed to be the Queen of England, but here she was now holding a royal Prince and gazing at the King who looked on her as if she was Aphrodite herself. She saw the happiness and radiance shine from his eyes and knew that it had been worth it. She had lost so much, but in doing so had gained everything.
In the distance from through the castle's walls she heard the sounds of the church bells ringing in constant chimes. The whole of London would know of her birth and soon they would learn of the attempt on her life and her and her child's survival. She knew that the people now more than ever would rally to her cause. And the birth of a healthy Prince in such dangerous circumstances was surely proof to all of Europe that their marriage was a just and legal one, and that God had saved Anne and her child, the true family of Henry, whereas he had forsaken Katherine and her many dead children.
Her ladies could be heard in the outer chamber bustling around, likely making arrangements for the Prince's nursery. For now though it was just her son and Henry in her bedchamber and she liked it this way, for a few moments she wanted to forget, and just fantasise about being a normal family for once. She was just an ordinary woman celebrating the birth of her ordinary son with the love of her life. They were safe and happy and the outside world drifted away.
Henry leaned forwards and ran a soft hand through his wife's hair and gazed at her perfection in awe. Anne truly was remarkable, she had survived a murder attempt and a hazardous birth and lost her father, all in the space of a few hours but still she smiled and looked at him in love and not resentment. He would do whatever it took now to keep them safe, when he finally had the answers to the reasons for the attempt on her life, he would make sure that the threat was completely wiped out.
'Th….Thom...Thomas,' Anne croaked, ignoring the advice of Linacre for a few moments to croak out the name she had decided on.
'Anne!' Henry cried out, alarmed at hearing his darling's fragile voice croak out her father's name.
He moved closer to her and hushed her with a kiss to her lips, careful not to squish his son who was still happily feeding from his mother's breast.
'Thomas,' Anne croaked out again, and stared down pointedly at her newborn son.
Henry understood and considered. He had thought to name the newborn son Edward for his grandfather. But as he looked at his son, who already looked remarkably like Anne he knew that he could not deny her request. Thomas Boleyn had been a poor father, but he had given his life so his daughter and his grandson could live. In the end he had done the ultimate act of parenthood and sacrificed himself for his child. He still had his darling Anne and now a beautiful son because of him. He had a family, what he had always wanted.
It was the only name he could be given.
'Prince Thomas,' Henry replied smiling at her, knowing that it was the right choice.
Anne smiled back at him and mouthed the name at her son who would be named for her father. In the end her father had loved her and that was how Anne would remember him.
Cromwell raced through the halls of whitehall towards the Queen's apartment where he knew the King would be. Brereton had broke, it had taken the better part of the day but he had done it. And what he had revealed! At first he was astonished and considered it the ramblings of a mad man and had gone to punish him again, but he had screamed and screamed, swore on the name of God and his place in heaven.
He had wasted no time in rushing from the Tower towards the palace, giving hasty instructions to the guards to take him to his cell and to feed him. He had no idea how the King would react, or what he would order but Cromwell knew that he had to act with all haste.
He barged into the Queen's waiting room to see the quiet bustle of her ladies and her sister and a solemn doctor Linacre. He did not dare rush into the Queen's bedchamber and instead called out loudly.
'Your majesty!'
Nan Saville and Mary turned towards Cromwell in shock, he had no business here, especially when there was a newborn prince and the Queen was in such a vulnerable and indisposed position.
'You must leave Master Cromwell,' Mary instructed quietly, gazing fearfully at the door to the bedchamber.
'I cannot, I must speak to his majesty concerning the attack against the Queen,' Cromwell urged.
The noise however, had alerted the King and he hurried out of the bedchamber closing the door quietly and looking flustered and turned to face Cromwell. He had not expected the man to be done with Brereton so soon, however he took one look at the man's face and knew that he had answers.
'Doctor Linacre, you are to monitor the Queen and make sure she is comfortable. Lady Shelton, go and fetch Sir Anthony and tell him that he is not to leave the Queen's and Prince's presence under any circumstance, Lady Savile, Mary, make sure the Queen does not panic and keep her calm,' he gave his orders quickly and then grasped Cromwell by the arm and led him from the Queen's apartments.
They walked quickly to the King's presence chamber not wanting gossip to spread throughout Whitehall. George Boleyn was there already along with Norfolk and a few trusted others, although Henry's trust felt very fragile at the moment.
'Cromwell, what have you discovered from that bastard?' Henry spat.
'Your majesty, I will not delay in telling you of his confession, but must caution you in how you to proceed,' Cromwell urged knowing that delicacy and stealth would be required in these circumstances.
'Give me the names Cromwell!' Henry urged.
'Brereton resisted at first but eventually succumbed and named Ambassador Chapuys as his co-conspirator,' Cromwell said.
Henry swore and raged and pushed at the table containing his documents and letters and upturned it in his anger. Ignoring the flinches and worry amongst his council at his reaction.
'It does not surprise me,' Henry finally announced knowing that the man hated Anne and believed that Katherine was still his rightful Queen.
'He also claimed that his orders were given straight from God, on questioning, he further explained that by this he meant the Pope,' Cromwell paused and watched as all colour drained from the King's face.
'Pope Paul has given orders he claims comes from God, that England must come back from the clutches of heresy and has offered handsome rewards for the Queen's assasination.' Cromwell said.
Henry felt utterly ill. The vatican itself had tried to harm his beloved, had actually issued secret orders to try and bring her down! He felt rage like he had never known flood through him. They had no right to try and control his affairs in his country. Now more than ever he was convinced that Anne had been right in her views of the true religion, the very leader of the church, the man who claimed to be God's representative on earth had tried to murder a woman in cold blood who was pregnant with his child! It was evil like he had never heard of.
'What else?' Henry croaked unable to voice his thoughts.
'Chapuys is aware of the Pope's designs, and I asked whether the Emperor was aswell to which he stated he was unaware,' Cromwell said.
'Of course he knows,' George butted in unable to take it anymore, 'How could he not, his own ambassador,- everyone knows how much of a supporter he is of Katherine, he himself imprisoned Pope Clement to get him to refuse the divorce, of course he knows!'
'It would seem likely,' Cromwell agreed.
'If I were younger and more brash as I used to be, I would declare war and immediately begin to mobilise our ships and soldiers for an attack on Spain, however as you say Cromwell, caution is needed here,' Henry whispered as if to himself considering. War was no easy thing and Spain, no matter how he hated them was not weak.
'There is something else your majesty,' Cromwell stated hesitantly.
'What?'
Cromwell paused seemingly lost for words and looked down at his feet.
'Answer man!' he shouted.
'Your daughter, the lady Mary has been named as a conspirator,' Cromwell whispered.
Henry stepped back in shock his eyes wide and his hand grasped at air as if needing something to lean on.
'It can't be true,' Henry denied.
'He swore it before God,' Cromwell replied.
The men in the room all gazed at Henry waiting for his reaction. It was well known that the once Princess hated Anne and refused to submit to her father. But never did anyone think that she could be motivated enough to kill. But now Henry cursed himself for not seeing it sooner, remembering her violent attack against Anne when she was pregnant.
Henry looked up from his shock and stared straight into the eyes of Cromwell, he looked hard and saw that the man had believed the traitor and believed he was telling the truth.
With no warning whatsoever Henry ran from the rooms.
Cromwell and George raced after him in shock at his sudden departure, fearing that sanity may have left the monarch. Despite their youth and athleticism they could not catch the young King as he ran through the halls of Whitehall paying no heed, to the startled courtiers and servants who flattened themselves to the wall and made way.
They realised where he was heading soon enough as they came across the Lady Mary's quarters. Without pausing to ask for entrance Henry stormed the room causing a few flustered servants to look up in astonishment as the King barged into this daughters rooms. Lady Salisbury the governess of Mary hastily curtsied.
'Your majesty this is an honour, I'm sure the Lady Mary will be honoured to see you,' She said panicked by the sudden appearance of the King.
Henry paid her no mind and pushed past her and flung open the door to her bedchamber. Immediately noticing that his daughter was not there.
He turned and grabbed Salisbury by the throat and pushed her against the wall ignoring her screams and the cries from the other servants and the shocked shouts from Boleyn and Cromwell.
'Where is she?!' He screamed at her shaking her roughly.
'The lady Mary is at prayer,' She uttered panicked with tears coming down her face.
Henry threw her to the floor and reentered his daughters rooms, and strode to her dresser and rifled through her belongings coming to the chest that kept her most precious jewellery and opened it before throwing it to the floor.
He barged back into the the waitings rooms to the astonished faces of his servants.
'Send men to every corner of London and send word to every port, my daughter is a traitor and is on the run with the ambassador Chapuys, they are to be caught and brought back here...dead or alive,' He shouted fury in his eyes.
'Your majesty?' Salisbury asked confused.
'You think I do not know my own daughter madam? She would never leave without her prized jewellery that her mother gifted her, she has fled like the traitor she is,' Henry stated absolutely sure that he was right.
'Your majesty?' Cromwell interrupted hesitantly and asked for confirmation of his orders.
'Search London Cromwell, search the whole of my kingdom if you have to, I am positive that you will not find a trace of Katherines daughter anywhere!' Henry spat renouncing all claim to the bastard child.
Cromwell rushed from the room to begin his work but George Boleyn stepped forwards ignoring the cringing servants who remained frozen in place.
'Henry are you okay?' He asked. He had no idea how his brother in law must be feeling right now, to gain a son and lose a daughter, his beloved attacked and almost murdered, with the permission of God's so called servant on earth, it would be too much for him to bear never mind the King.
'I hardly know,' he whispered back.
George was astonished when tears began to run down Henry's face and saw the utter look of heartbreak on his face.
'Let's get you back to Anne,' George whispered.
'No I must…' Henry started.
'No Henry,' George whispered ignoring formality, 'You must trust in Cromwell and in us, he is very efficient and will do all that is possible to bring the traitors back here to await trial. But right now you need to be with Anne, and she needs to be with you.'
'I can't,' Henry said shaking his head.
'Anne loves you more than anyone else in this world, and your little boy will also, you should be with them and bask in their love and comfort Henry, you will need a clear head for what is to come.'
Henry nodded silently and considered. He trusted Cromwell and he trusted George and Norfolk, they would see to everything. He was too angry and hurt to consider anything else, his heart hurt. He knew that he and Mary had their differences and that she did not like Anne. But to try and murder her and her unborn brother? Had he caused this to happen? Had be brought her up to commit this kind of sin and evil? What kind of father could he hope to be for Thomas if he had failed so spectacularly with Mary.
Suddenly he realised that there was another parent who had a lot to answer for. Although Cromwell had not mentioned her, he would hear it from her own lips that she had not known of the plot against Anne's life. He would stare into the face of Katherine of Aragon once again and ask her for the truth and this time no Emperor, or Pope, or even God would stop him from getting her to speak the truth.
'Thank you brother,' Henry said.
George nodded and smiled in reply at the title glad that the King considered him as such. He gestured for the King to leave before him and hastily dismissed the servants behind him.
George walked the King towards Anne's apartments glaring at anyone who dared to stop and try to talk to them.
Upon arriving Henry turned to George and whispered to him, 'Bring Katherine here, do it quietly and do not tell her what has occurred,' Henry ordered.
'Are you sure that's wise?' George dared to question knowing that Anne would not like it.
'If she is even the slightest bit involved, I will not hesitate to throw her in the tower,' Henry replied.
George nodded and backed away hastily, he thanked God regularly that he was not on the wrong side of the King, for when he wanted blood nothing had ever stopped him.
Let me know what you think!