AN: To answer some questions: Why did Anne's son die? Because some things are destined to happen. Have you noticed that since her real-life wedding, Anne's pregnancies go according to the show/history? The little boy was obviously not meant to live and this is not one of the stories were everything turns out well just because he survives. Back in the time, childbirth was dangerous and to leave that out would be cowardice. Brandon's son did historically die in 1534, but I delayed his death for almost two years so that it could mirror Anne's loss. And yes, I agree that there has been much grief in the last chapter. To me, 1536 was a very dark year in real life as well, so it would be unrealistic to make it all kittens and puppies.

Btw: Just a strange coincidence- the chapter number is now the same as the year we're in, namely 36 ;)

The Pilgrimage: Uprising

"Look what they've done, John. Just look," Robert Aske said sadly.

The two of them watched breathlessly as Sawley Abbey was almost crushed to dust by the King's commissioners.

"It's all Cromwell's doing," John Constable said. "Cromwell and his sect of heretics in London. They're bastards." He was close to tears; tears of anger. "Well, I'll tell you, Mister Aske, people are no longer willing to stand by and watch their faith and everything that they care for being stripped away! I heard just yesterday that two of Cromwell's commissioners were attacked in Lincolnshire. And here, in Yorkshire, a man of the commons stood up in his own church and said: Go we to follow the crosses for when they are taken from us, we can follow them no more."

Aske looked from the abbey to John and back to the abbey. He seemed desperate.

"What am I supposed to do, John?"

"The commons, here, in Lincolnshire, everywhere… they are prepared to fight to save what they love. But they need captains; they need clever, educated men to lead them."

Aske shook his head. "I am no leader, John."

"Look, don't decide now. We will call a meeting, then decide," John Constable urged him. "For the love of God."

Anne was angry. Her last miscarriage had made her sick and miserable, but losing her son now only made her furious. They had locked her away from the world for nothing. They had treated her like an imbecile for nothing. Her son was dead. She could feel it in their stares that they all blamed her for her still-born child. Yes, of course it had been her fault; it was always her fault, was it not?

And then she had also reason to suspect Henry's eyes were straying. A maid had told her earlier today that Cromwell had given up his personal rooms for one of her ladies in waiting. She knew those rooms were adjacent to the King's, so she didn't have to be a psychic to figure out the rest. And the girl he had given them to wasn't even one of those she had suspected to become Henry's mistress, but that pale boring slut Jane Seymour!

Anne had confronted the girl earlier that day when she had noticed the girl's serene stare at her locket. Angrily she had demanded to see the jewel. Inside, not to her surprise, she had found the liking of her husband. Her husband! How could the pale bitch parade around her rooms wearing her husband around her neck? And this Seymour girl had even dared to look back at her. At her, the queen of England! Anne had been so irate that she had ripped off the locket from Jane's neck. The girl had said nothing but just walked away. Away from her, without permission! Anne would have loved to cut her neck as well.

Instead, she had rushed towards Cromwell's chambers with plans to wreak her anger on him.

Anne pushed open the doors to Cromwell's office only to be left waiting. He didn't even bother to look up from his paperwork despite the loud sound of the doors. It was only when a groom announced her to him that he noticed her.

"Oh, Majesty," he said rising from his chair. "I have some good news, Your Majesty. The bill for the dissolution of the Northern monasteries has just passed parliament. Our reformation is moving apace."

She did not return his broad smile at all.

"I have been told privately, Mister Secretary, that the King has already sold Sawley Abbey in Yorkshire to one of his courtiers even though the bill has not yet reached the statue book and plainly on your advice." She turned at him angrily. "Our reformation was never meant to be about personal gain. Religious houses should not be sold off, but converted to better uses."

Cromwell allowed her to shower him with her wrath. Then, he sighed and replied: "Madam, the confiscated assets will be used to the pleasure of our Almighty God and to the profit of this realm, which is but a pygmy but shall one day be greater even than Spain."

Anne was looking through his papers but found nothing to distract her from the thought that was truly on her mind. That insufferable pale wench!

"So is it true that you have given your private rooms here to the Seymours?" She finally asked.

Cromwell inhaled and exhaled some air searching for words.

"I am the queen of England; you will answer me!" Anne rushed towards him angrily and grabbed him by the waistcoat. "Is it true?"

"Yes, it is true."

She couldn't believe he would actually admit it. Her eyes grew wide and turned into hollows of madness.

"You have overreached yourself, Mister Cromwell. Believe me, you have placed yourself in very great danger," she threatened him. "Do you believe me? Or do you assume that I no longer possess the power to crush you?"

He didn't answer.

"It would be an easy mistake to make, Mister Cromwell."

With these words, Anne rushed out of the room, leaving behind a baffled and mildly upset Cromwell. He didn't know whether to believe her or not, but one thing was certain: One of them would go down.

He had been fretting over a letter from France, but when his groom led in Jane, all of Henry's cares melted away from his soul. To see her was the best moment of the day.

"Lady Jane," he said happily and put away the letter.

"Majesty," she smiled and curtseyed.

He tried to rise from his chair, but the damage done by his jousting accident pushed him back. It made him angry to feel like an old cripple, but surely Jane did not deserve that anger. After all, it was thanks to her favour that he was still alive! So he gave in to his fate and sat down again.

"I pray you come closer."

She paced towards him but stopped at the end of the table. Henry would not have it.

"Closer still," he insisted and patted his leg. "Here. Sit on my knee."

He took her hand and helped her to take a seat on his lap.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered gently as he began to caress her neck. "I respect your honour, believe me. In the future, I won't see you unless your other family members are present. But I just had to see you now."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Jane replied shyly.

He put his head against her shoulders and sighed. "Your favour saved my life."

"No, it…"

"Yes," Henry cut her short. "As I lay there, your image came to me and I awoke with its promise."

She looked at him in bewilderment. Her hands began to tremble.

"What should I say?" Jane asked helplessly.

Henry looked her into the eyes. "Will you let me kiss you, Jane?"

A small nod of hers was enough to satisfy all his desires. He drew closer and closer until their lips finally met in the most perfect feeling ever. It was a soft, sweet kiss.

"Once more," Henry whispered, unable to give up this pleasure so soon.

He took her neck and pulled her into a more sensual and passionate kiss. The feeling of it swept him away into an ocean of serenity.

Then the door was opened.

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God!" It was Anne's voice. "Oh my God, what is this? What is this?"

The sight of her painfully distorted face shocked Henry and caused Jane to flee from his lap is if he was a leper. She hid behind the King's chair. Anne held firmly to the door and seemed to want to run out of the room, but then she slammed the leaf and turned around to yell at the two of them.

"Just when my son has died after escaping my belly I find you wenching with Mistress Seymour!"

Henry rose from his chair and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Sweetheart…"

"No," Anne yelled and freed herself.

"Jane, you had best leave," the King ordered.

Anne bent over the table with tears in her eyes. "Why are you doing this? Why did you have to do this?"

He paced behind her to soothe and console her, but she pushed him away and hit him at the arm. Stepping backwards she tried to keep him away from her.

"Please, please, now!" Henry said, but his words drowned under her massive series of "No, no, no, no!"

Just when she had almost left the room he was finally able to grab her and wrapped his arms around her. Anne wept bitter tears.

"Stop it. Stop it," he urged her.

But she was inconsolable.

"How do our reforms progress?" Cromwell asked casually.

"As you know, Mister Secretary, parliament has now voted for the suppression of all monastic houses," Sir Richard Rich replied. "Our commissioners are up and about their business in nearly every county in England."

"Much opposition?"

Rich shook his head. "Not as much as we might have expected."

"Well, why should we have expected it?" Cromwell asked raising an eyebrow. "People can see for themselves that all these houses should be condemned for their manifest sin and carnal and abominable living. I was told – and it's one anecdote among many – when our commissioners entered the London House of the Crossed Friars, the found the prior himself in bed with his whore, both stark naked. He offered them bribes to go away."

Rich began to laugh. "Yes, it is true that ordinary people are so greedy upon these houses when they're suppressed that they scavenge in them until nothing is left. They even take the books to use for paper on their houses of easement."

Cromwell didn't laugh but changed the topic. "What about the gains to the King's treasury?"

"Well, so far, by my reckoning, we have already doubled the King's income and taken possession of monastic lands worth many millions of pounds."

He couldn't believe what he'd just heard. "Millions?"

"Poor sister," George Boleyn whispered and embraced her even tighter. "My poor sweet Anne."

"Oh George, George, George…"

He patted her hair and placed a kiss upon it. "My poor sweet Anne, do not despair. All will be well again."

She pushed him away. "Do you really think so, George? For I do not see it coming. I have lost his love as I have lost my boy, our son! He's gone, George, he's gone forever and nothing can get him back!"

George tried to reach out for her without knowing what to say once he managed to touch her again. She withdrew.

"He has given her Cromwell's apartments, can you imagine that? He is parading his boring little wench in front of me, in front of the entire court! He is making a fool out of me," Anne yelled. "Who will take me seriously now that they know he is back to his old, fickle self? I can hear them whispering, George, and I can hear them laughing."

"No one is laughing at you," he assured her.

"I know they do. They all do. They laugh at a queen who cannot keep her son alive and her husband faithful," she insisted. Tears crept up in her eyes. "Oh George, why can't he see that he is killing me? He is ripping my heart out of my chest and serving it to his pale whore!"

George touched her shoulder gently, trying his best to think of something soothing.

"If he hurts you so much then let him be. For the moment, I mean," he suggested. "Let him alone and he will soon tire of the girl as of all the others."

His words echoed in her head. He will soon tire of you as of all the others. Catherine's words. Had she been right at last? Anne turned to her brother in despair.

"How? How could I let him be, he is pushing his harlot into everyone's faces at court!"

"Come with me to the countryside. We will take Mark and Wyatt and others and have a merry time. We can even invite Mary. It could be just as before, when we were young," George said smiling. "The good air will brighten up your health and your mood."

Anne shook her head and bit her lip.

"Please, Anne, come with me to the county."

She didn't know what to do.

Robert Aske was astonished by the sheer number of people who had gathered. True, he had known many of them grumbled about the recent developments, but he had not believed John and Robert Constable when they had first told him that there would be a time when people would take up their arms. Now, it seemed, the time had come, and he was being dragged right into it.

Robert Constable jumped onto a barrel and began to speak. "Friends, friends! We've come here so that you can listen to and talk to this good man: Mister Robert Aske."

"Aye," the crowd cheered.

"Now, some of you already know him as the Earl of Northumberland's legal man," he went on explaining. "Hey, shsh, hey! Now, he's always been honest and fair-minded in his dealings with the commons, so Mister Aske can speak for himself."

Aske took a last deep breath before getting onto the barrel himself. "Evening, gentlemen."

"Evening," the crowd greeted him.

"Now, tell me what it is you all want," he asked.

"Mister Aske, all our feast days are abolished and gone. Should it please the King's Grace that we might have our holidays back?" One man said.

"We want the abbeys restored and demand that this advance of heresy be halted," another man added. "We want these new heretic bishops like Cranmer to be cast out and him and Cromwell to be supplanted by men of noble birth."

"Aye," the people yelled and began applauding.

Another man jumped to the front. "We hear rumours, Mister Aske, that new taxes are to be levied against us; on our cattle and our christenings, on our marriages and our births!"

"Mister Aske, they will destroy our parish churches and steal all their treasures," someone else yelled.

"Alright, gentlemen, alright. And what do you reckon you can do to stop them?" Aske inquired.

"Mister Aske!" A man ventured forward. "Before our lands, our goods, and our houses are taken from us by the church commissioners, we will fight!"

"Aye!"

"And we will die!"

"Aye!"

"That is our full answer, Mister Aske!"

"Aye!"

The clamour was ear-splitting. Aske lowered his gaze.

"I know you are angry. The destruction of the abbeys is a terrible- a criminal thing since they represent by their very presence an exalted ideal to all of us," he agreed. "But, gentlemen, this call to arms, to rebellion against the King's Grace, is something which on my conscience I cannot agree to."

"Nonsense," someone shouted.

"Since the King is our body and soul, then an attack upon him is an attack upon the commonwealth and upon God himself!" Aske went on.

"Did you hear that, men? The gentry don't care for us," a man yelled. "Christ died for the poor. You remember that, Mister Aske?"

Robert was stupefied. He had not expected such harsh reaction despite the fact that he generally sympathised with their sorrows and wishes. But the last man's words had woken something inside of him. They had given him an idea.

They wounds of Christ.

"Your Majesty, the Queen is here," young Henry Clansey announced to his sovereign.

Astonished, King Henry put down his papers and looked to the door. His wife entered dressed in midnight black and looking sterner than ever. She curtseyed before him, far deeper than was necessary, and waited for him to address her.

"My Lady?" He asked curiously. It was very unlike her to be self-restrained and calm, especially after her breakdown a few days earlier.

"Your Majesty," she responded.

"Well, what can I do for you?"

Anne cleared her throat. "Your Majesty, I came here to petition you to allow my leave for the country. I wish to visit my brother's estates. They tell me it's lovely there by this time of the year."

"The countryside?" Henry asked frowning.

"Yes, Your Majesty. It will do good for my health."

He didn't understand her sudden change of mood. What was she up to? Was it all a clever trick?

"Surely Your Majesty would also appreciate a time of privacy so that you can attend your… affairs of state with more diligence," Anne added. It cost her quite an effort to speak those words.

Now, Henry's eyes lit up. "Of course. How very considerate of you, Madam. And how kind of your brother, the Duke, to take you in and nurture you back to health," he said. "We give you permission to leave with our blessing and hope that you shall find the countryside to your amusement."

Anne bit her tongue and curtseyed. "Your Majesty."

As she rose, their eyes met one last time. Both of them knew they would not be seeing each other for a long time, but neither of them had any clue just how much would happen in between. Henry saw an obedient wife making place for a mistress whilst Anne saw a man who had betrayed her heart and broken a promise. But neither of them knew that soon they would be threatening each other's lives.

Sir John Seymour closed the door behind him carefully before addressing the issue most prominently on his mind. Looking at his eldest daughter he smiled.

"The King has offered to serve you!"

"Yes, father," Jane replied.

"I am not surprised. And it means he does not seek an easy conquest," John Seymour said happily. He took Jane's hands.

"He has formed an affection," his eldest son Edward agreed. "What is important is that it should be carefully and assiduously nurtured."

Father and son seemed to understand each other perfectly well, but Jane sitting on her bed was utterly confused. Why were they speaking as if this was about some economical matter? Edward turned to her again.

"I must urge you not to submit yourself and yield your virginity to the King however forceful his persuasions."

Jane laughed at the ridiculous thought.

"Jane does not need to be lectured on the need for virtue or modesty, Edward, when she possesses them in her nature," her father jumped to her side.

"Still, imagine what it would mean for us as a family if he did grow to love her," Edward insisted.

John Seymour nodded. "I am certainly aware that there are still some at court who would like to see the Queen replaced."

Jane's pale eyes wandered between the two men. She rose in confusion. "But wait, wait, wait… I thought that… are you saying that I should be queen instead of her?"

Edward looked at her unmoved. "Would you like to be?"

Laughing out of confusion, Jane sat down again to ponder the thought. Would she like to be? Ignoring the qualms of his sister, Edward turned to his father again and spoke in a lower voice.

"I shall do as I can to promote her relation to the King. Since you are returning to Wulfhall again, I also thought it worthwhile to mention to you that I am to be wed."

His father looked at him puzzled. "Marry? Who?"

"Mistress Anne Stanhope," Edward replied short-spoken. He would not say any more on the matter since he could not find it in his heart to forgive his father his past transgressions with his so-called former wife. What father beds his own daughter-in-law, after all? It would never happen again, Edward had promised himself. Anne was his and his alone.

Swords were sharpened, lances were polished, and an enormous amount of stitching went on. The barn was swarming with so many people as Robert Aske had never seen before. Still, he had no time to marvel at the number of people their call had reached. He had agreed to be their leader and enforce their demands, but it would not be a rebellion. It would be a pilgrimage.

"What's your name, lad?" He asked the next one in the row.

"Charlie, Sir," the boy replied. "Charlie Raw."

Aske nodded and began writing it down. "Trade?"

"Shepherd."

"Do you know what we're about, Charlie?"

The boy nodded. "Yes, Captain Aske."

"We are not rebels," Aske explained. "We are pilgrims and we have a pilgrimage to go on. If you want to join us, then you shall swear to be true to the Almighty God, to Christ's Catholic Church, to our sovereign Lord, the King, and to the commons of this realm, so help you God."

The boy put a hand on the bible. "I do swear."

Aske handed him a stitched cloth. "Wear this badge. It shows the five wounds of Christ to prove that the commons will fight in Christ's cause."

"Yes, Captain."

"God bless you, Charlie."

On a bright day in early autumn 1536, Jane Seymour was walking the gardens of Hampton Court with the King. Of course, her brother and father were following her at a decent distance to keep up the pretence of honour.

"If Your Majesty would allow, I should like to talk about your daughter Mary," Jane said. "I hope that, with the Queen away in the countryside, you should invite her here to preside over your court."

Henry laughed. "Jane, you are a fool to hope so. You ought to look forward to the beautiful time we are going to have together, not anyone else's."

"But, Your Majesty, I thought I was asking not so much for the good of others as for the good of the repose and the tranquillity of yourself and of Your Majesty's court."

He remained calm for a moment but found it hard to see her fretting over whether she had angered him. He took her hand.

"Forgive me. It's just that I so much want a wonderful time with you that I find it hard to care for anything else," he explained. Looking at her family for a moment he took Jane by her hands and gently pulled her behind a bush. He smiled. "You are so pure. I just don't want you to be affected by things that have gone before. May I kiss you, Jane?"

She smiled. "Aren't you the king of England?"

Though they thought themselves alone in their secret moment of courtly love, keen eyes were resting on them all the time. It was not only Jane's relatives- someone else had been watching from a window in the distance.

"It is utterly repulsive to see him so bewitched by a she-wolf," Hal Howard almost spat it out.

Brandon nodded silently. It hurt to see his friend commit such a folly as betraying his beloved wife. Right now, Charles felt like he was the only defender Anne had left and to choose between his loyalty to her and his friendship with the King was almost unbearable. What could he do?

"They are vile bootlickers and whorish gold-diggers, all of them," Hal continued. His disgust at all newly elevated families had mixed with the personal obloquy by Anne Stanhope-soon-to-be-Seymour. "If only I were down right now, I would pull her away from him and push her back into the gutter from which she came."

"I would be careful if I were you, my Lord," Brandon remarked. "As long as the King is besotted with her it would mean your death to threaten her."

Laughing darkly, Hal looked at him and shook his head. "I am no fool, Your Grace, but I promise you this: I will see the wench fall and her family of wolves with her. Mark my words: When the time has come, I will strip her of her false smile and push her into the yawning abyss of hell where all adulteresses belong. And this vile creature, this emissary of Satan who has orchestrated the whole dirty affair…"

"You mean Cromwell?"

Hal's eyes sparkled. "Yes. I will be his downfall."

Brandon looked at the other in disbelief. He wanted the same, but he did not have the guts to cross his best friend. Yet, if there was someone in this world with the balls to do it, it was probably Hal Howard. He put a hand on the other man's shoulder and nodded.

"When the time has come, I shall support you with all my might," he said solemnly.

They understood each other.

Anne was at peace again. She had not trusted her brother's judgement at first, but the late summer in the country had changed her mind. The last warm rays of the sun warmed her heart and gave her the tranquillity she so desired. True, she missed her children very much, but she had George and Mary and her nieces and nephews to distract herself with. And there was Mark who played her lovely songs and Wyatt who recited virtually every poem he had written during the last years.

It was just as before. Before she had become queen.

Anne listened to Mark's violin while pondering the thought. She had not wanted to be queen at first; she had not cared for the King. Then, slowly, she had fallen for Henry and had wished to be his wife. Back then, she hadn't thought of the power that came with it; she had simply been a woman in love. But just as her father had predicted, Anne had grown to embrace the power of her new status. She had felt every inch a queen. Now she felt nothing.

Was it all lost? No, it can't be. He can't rid himself of me, Anne told herself. He would not risk losing two legitimate heirs. But I fear… I fear that may be about it. My sons may keep me alive, but what good is that if I do no longer possess his love? Am I to be an empty shell, a pretty doll taken out of a closet for solemn occasions? People will laugh at me. They will laugh at my children. My poor little babies.

She looked out of the window to watch her little niece Annie playing with her father. They seemed perfectly happy. It just wasn't fair.

If I lose his love forever, then Elizabeth too will suffer. She will not have a loving father as Annie. He will have eyes for his mistresses only and neglect her and she will grow up to think that neglect was the default in a relationship with men. How could God allow this to happen?

Mark Smeaton put down his violin and sighed. "I cannot seem to cheer you up today, Your Majesty."

"No, Mark, it is not that. Please, go on. I am in good cheer," she assured him. "I was merely… watching."

Mark smiled and peeked out of the window. "Your niece is a sweet young lady," he said. "I trust she'll be a great beauty one day. But, alas, what else can be expected of her with a name like that?"

"Shsh, Mark," she waved his words aside. "You remember how I once asked you to show me how to play the violin?"

"Naturally, Majesty. It was the day that I first met you, a day that I shall always treasure in my heart."

Anne smiled. "Well, Mister Smeaton, I would like you to teach me now. Truly. I would like to know it."

He frowned for a second but soon returned to his smile. Anne reached out her hand and Mark took it gladly.

"It is a long and arduous way to mastering the violin, Madam."

Her icy blue eyes sparkled again. "In that case, Mark, I am glad to know that I have plenty of time at hand."

"Edward Seymour," the herald announced.

Cromwell watched with satisfaction as his new-found ally ventured towards the King and knelt before the dais. Now that Queen Anne was gone to the countryside, finally everything seemed to be going right for him.

"Edward Seymour, as a loyal servant and good friend to His Majesty, it is the King's pleasure today to create you Viscount Beauchamp of Hache in Somerset," Cromwell announced proudly. Of course, this was not so much to do with Edward's friendship but rather the King's affection for his sister. Cromwell didn't care for the reason, though.

Edward exhaled audibly. "Your Majesty, I am deeply honoured," he said smiling. "I assure Your Majesty that I will labour unremittingly in Your Majesty's interests in the hope of repaying the great trust you have shown in me."

The King didn't even bother to nod but simply made a gesture that only Cromwell understood. The Chancellor stepped forward and presented Seymour with a heavily sealed parchment.

"My Lord, here are your letters patent. I congratulate you on your elevation."

"Thank you, Mister Secretary," Seymour said nodding.

The King waited for Seymour to leave before he called upon his first servant. "Thomas. Mister Rich showed me the figures. I am very pleased with you, Tom, and will prove it now."

Cromwell looked puzzled. "Majesty?"

"Kneel," the King said.

Though he did not understand what was going on, a feeling that he had grown to hate, Cromwell did as he was told. A sudden lighting of fear rushed through his body as he saw the King take up a sword, but there was no malicious intent in the man's face. Then Cromwell understood what was about to happen and solemnly closed his eyes.

"Arise, Sir Thomas Cromwell, also Baron Cromwell of Wimbledon and from this day forth Lord Privy Seal."

He rose slowly and gasped silently. "Majesty," he whispered.

The King looked at him and seemed to blink, but the rest of his face remained unmoved. Charles Brandon however could not hide his contempt and Cromwell could well see it. But he didn't care. Not now. Cromwell turned around to leave the Reception Room and now, at last, people bowed to him.

They were sitting together for lunch when the news reached them that some armed men had gathered outside the estate and demanded entrance. George Boleyn, Duke of Ormonde, was the first to rise from his chair in unrest. His two sisters looked at each other confused as did the older one's husband. The children of course knew nothing; they had no reason to fear the King's ever changing moods. But George, Anne, Mary, and William all knew that King Henry could change his mind very quickly and that his current intentions towards them were rather unfriendly.

"What if they have come to take Anne back?" William whispered to his wife. "Only Christ knows why he would force her back, but I fear that if she did return he might take out his anger…"

"Shsh," Mary replied worried. "Do not speak of the devil or else he'll knock on your door."

"What men?" George asked. "The King's men?"

The groom shook his head. "No, Your Grace, they do not wear the King's badge. Coming to think of it, they do not wear anyone's badge at all."

George frowned. "What do you mean no badge at all? If they are armed men they must be in someone's employ."

"Well frankly, Your Grace, they look more like an armed bunch of peasants to me," the groom admitted.

"Armed peasants?" William Stafford asked half-smiling.

"Yes. Some of them were even carrying pitchforks," the groom said nodding. "And they demanded to speak to the Queen."

"Hell! And you only say that now!" George yelled at the man. "Send them away and tell them that they will regret it if they do not leave immediately!"

Unflinching, the groom replied: "They have already made it clear that they would not withdraw until they were given permission to speak to the Queen."

"Boy," George yelled to his personal servant. "Fetch my sword. I'll teach them a lesson in humility! Who do they think they are, coming around and calling out the Queen as if this was a light supper chatting with…"

"George," Anne's voice soared about his angry mumblings. Everyone's eyes were on her immediately. "Please, don't upset yourself. Let them in. Let us hear what they have got to say."

"No. What if they have come to harm you?" Mary objected.

Anne smiled. "I am in God's hands if that be the case. Still I intend to give them permission to speak and I am fairly certain that even the Duke of Ormonde has to yield to his queen's will."

Grudgingly, George nodded and sent away his groom to open the gates. He followed Anne to the Reception Room while engirding his sword.

"I believe you are making a huge mistake, sister."

"Be that as it may, I have made my decision," Anne replied firmly and took a seat in the large throne-like chair.

The doors were opened and allowed a group of five men in scuffed clothes into the room. They seemed so utterly misplaced amongst the lush tapestry and expensive furniture that Anne was tempted to smile. Somehow, George's men had managed to lure the strangers into giving them their weapons, so they did not pose an immediate threat now. Instead, and much to everyone's surprise, the men sunk to their knees in front of Anne.

"Your Majesty," they all said in awe.

"Good men, welcome in these halls," Anne said regally. "I pray you speak to me of the matters which are so pressing that you should be willing to risk the Duke of Ormonde's wrath only to convey them to me."

The foremost man rose to his feet. "Majesty, we have come to tell you of an uprising in Lincolnshire against the King. There and elsewhere people are flocking together and taking up arms to fight for the things they hold dear: their feast days, their parish churches, and their religion."

A shocked gasp ran through the assembled nobility and servants alike. Anne exchanged confused glances with her brother. Why had they not heard about it sooner? Didn't the King care enough to let them know? But then again, the estate was far closer to Lincolnshire than London, so perhaps Hampton Court was still oblivious? Yet why would peasants care to inform her of it?

"What is your name?" Anne asked.

"John Palmer, Your Majesty."

"And what is your purpose in this rebellion?"

"Majesty, my friends and I are heading North to join the good people of Lincoln and Yorkshire in their just cause. They are no rebels but pilgrims and they wish to let the King know how many things are amiss in this country," Palmer explained. "It is our strong desire to further this cause and that is why we insist that you should be coming with us to Yorkshi…"

"How dare you speak to her like that?" George interrupted the man harshly. "You are speaking to the Queen of England, for God's sake, you cannot insist on anything!"

"Your Grace," Anne said calmly and made a gesture to stop her brother. "I am sure Mister Palmer meant no offence."

"Of course not, Your Majesty, I would not dream of offending you," the peasant agreed. "In fact, me and my friends admire you more than any other woman in this realm. You have given us the Princes and have always been charitable. We know of your good deeds at Maidenhead, Majesty, and are eager that those in the North should hear about it, too. They must know that there are some close to the King who are not greedy and heretic but kind and understanding."

This was not what they had expected. Anne looked at her siblings searching for counsel but there was none to be found. The situation was simply astonishing. Those people were probably Catholics, yet still they were turning to her for guidance and help! And in some ways, they were right to do so. After all, Anne had always spoken up against the dissolution and sale of the religious houses. She had warned Cromwell that it would stir up hatred and vengeance in the people, so in a way she felt flattered that her prophecies had come true.

"I see your reasoning, Mister Palmer. It is true that I have often tried to change the King's mind about the religious houses, but alas, I am but a poor woman and prone to the weaknesses of my sex. It seems just that the King should have more faith in his male councillors like Cromwell."

"No," Palmer strongly objected. "Men like Cromwell have risen for their personal profit alone and they will not stop until they have rid England of every holy place and good sacrament that is left. You may be a woman, Your Majesty, but you are also the Queen of England. The Yorkshire folk will listen to you and follow your council since you are both kind and learned. We fear that, without your help, all things would go awry in this kingdom."

After all those years of courteous talk, Anne finally felt truly flattered again. He had praised her for her intellect and strength, not for her good looks or the achievements of her family. He wanted her support. It was thrilling.

"Very well, Mister Palmer, I will accompany you to York."

The peasants smiled and cheered, but George rushed to her sight frightened.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"No, I am the most sane I have been in years. It is my duty as Queen to care for my people and prevent them from spilling blood. So long I had forgotten that I am more than just a wife and a mother, but it is true, George, and you cannot deny it now," Anne insisted firmly. "If you are worried for my safety, you can as well join me."

"Join you? We would both be traitors then!"

"No, we would be pilgrims," she replied smiling and turned to the peasants. "You may rejoice, good men, for His Grace the Duke has decided to accompany us to York and provide us with men at arms."

"Hooray! God bless you, Your Grace!" The men yelled.

"You are getting yourself in much trouble, sister," George whispered.

Anne shook her head. "No, George, I have been in much trouble ever since I married the King. But now I will return something to the good people who harvested the wealth that I have sipped upon for so many years."

He sighed deeply and turned around. Mary looked at him in utter disbelief; her eyes were asking him to declare it all a joke. Instead, he turned to his servants. "Get packed immediately, we leave by tomorrow morning. Pack only the most essential items and unobtrusive clothing. And you," he turned to Mark Smeaton. "You're coming along as well. And what about you, Will?"

Stafford questioned his wife with his eyes. "I… Your Grace, I am afraid I cannot do that to my wife, not while she is with child."

"Alright, so be it then. But I insist that you stay here and look to my estates," George said.

"Of course," Will agreed nodding.

Anne rose from her chair with a gentle smile on her lips. She remembered her dream and how much she had wished to die when Baby George had been taken from her. The voice of her mother echoed in her head. No, daughter, your life is not over yet. You still have a mission. You're an inspiration to your people. Her mother had been right. Her son may be gone, but her real purpose was not yet done. Perhaps she had been born for this moment.

"Thomas," she called for the poet across the room.

Wyatt approached her frowning. "Majesty?"

"Thomas, I ask you not to come with us to the North but instead return to Taunton. Inform Princess Mary of these latest events and encourage her to write letters to her Catholic friends and to the commons of the North," Anne urged him. "Mary is a much-loved figure in the North; her support will hopefully help us prevent violence and treason. Please do this for me."

He nodded slowly. "If that is Your Majesty's wish?"

"Yes, it is. Please convey to her my love and assure her of my undying affection in case… something should happen to me."

"Oh, but what could possibly happen to you?" Wyatt asked wryly.

Anne sighed. She looked around, but only when she was sure no one would see them did she dare to take his hands. "Thomas, I beg you," she said passionately, causing him to be genuinely surprised. "For the love and friendship that has once been between us, do me this favour and go to Mary. And please do not bear me any enmity for I could not face my death knowing that you hated me."

"I have never hated you," Wyatt admitted sadly.

"I know I have been unkind to you, Thomas, and would make up for it if I could. And though I was sure you understood why I had to leave you, I now see that a sincere apology would be appropriate," she went on. "So please… I ask you to forgive my wrongs and be my friend as once you were. Or, if you cannot do so, at least say that you will go to Taunton."

He looked at her quietly for what seemed like an eternity. So many things went on inside his head, so many old wounds that had just reopened and were closed again by her apology. Wyatt cleared his throat.

"I forgive you, Anne, and will try to be your friend again once God grants this realm a time of peace. But for now, I will do as you ask and inform Princess Mary."

Anne smiled in genuine relief. "Thank you, Thomas," she said and kissed his hands. "Thank you so much."

Slowly, he dared to return the smile. "May God bless and keep you on your way to York, Your Majesty."

"And may God bless you, Master Wyatt."

They had ridden night and day and now they almost stumbled off their horses once they had made it to Hampton Court. Dragging themselves along with the power of desperation, the two of them pushed their way through to the King's Chancellor unwilling to accept any putting off.

"My Lord, my Lord!" They yelled.

They pushed away the grooms in their way and rushed towards Cromwell.

"My Lord, we have come here in great haste to tell you that a great part of the North, as well as parts of Lincolnshire, have risen in sudden rebellion against His Majesty," one of them announced.

Cromwell's masque of the calm man barely broke.

"There are musters of the commons everywhere and beacons of rebellion are burning all night across the hills," the other man said.

The first one went on: "Just four days ago, while we were collecting taxes in Hexham, we were set upon by an angry mob. They captured one of the commissioners called Nicholas Bellow, pulled him down from his horse and beat him to death with their staves."

The second man nodded. "Among the mob, my lords, we saw armed priests urging on these rebellious knaves with cries of Kill them, kill them! Then we heard that another man, William Leach, who was known to be in your service, Mister Cromwell, had been hanged from a tree."

Cromwell tried to remain calm. "And what to these rebels say that they want?"

"So far as I can tell, they want to keep their holy days. They want monasteries restored and their churches unmolested and no more taxes," the first man replied.

"I heard it declared that if they prospered with their journey, they intended to kill you, my Lord, four or five bishops, and Sir Rich as devisers of taking church goods and tearing down churches," the second man added.

Rich shook his head. "Why do the local gentry not intervene and suppress these traitorous assemblies? Surely they want to protect their lands and holdings."

The first man looked at him. "They try, but the rebels come back even greater. Some say, my Lord Cromwell, that not hundreds but thousands are risen in rebellion against the King's church reforms."

Now, there was only one thought left in Cromwell's head.

Why didn't I know?

AN: Historically, there were two Constable brothers; John and Robert. The show only portrayed John despite the fact that Robert was probably the more eager one, so I decided to include him as well. Robert Aske was also much younger than in the show, and even though I liked the actor in the series, I will think of him now as a thirty-something with more charisma than worries.

Hope you enjoyed the first part of the Pilgrimage of Grace and will be around again for the second instalment when England is Facing the Flames! Please review and have a nice weekend!

Small Easteregg: John Palmer

He's an OC that you've probably never noticed but that has been there all along. Born in the North himself, he was a palace guard once; the one that quarrelled with Tony Cornish just before the assassin was caught (Chapter 14). His jealousy caused him to become a drunkard which eventually cost him his job and drove him into poverty. He then reappeared in Chapter 25 as a beggar when Anne was distributing alms. It was then that he became her fervent admirer. Palmer went on to seek employment in Maidenhead, which he got. His Northern relatives informed him of the upcoming rebellion and when he heard that his beloved Queen was residing just on the way, he formed a plan to give her the audience she had always deserved…