Chapter 22

Château de Boulogne-sur-Mer

Nord-Pas de Calais

April 15, 1537

Anne had been the prisoner of the Emperor for almost two days now, and she was getting restless. After their introduction, he left her in her chambers. He left her maids behind as well and the women were confined to her chambers. They were surrounded, and Anne could not figure out how they knew where she was hidden. Everyone had been so careful to keep her location secret. No one from her court in England would let her come to harm, simply if it was to keep her father from becoming Lord Protector. Even the extremely Catholic North was coming around due to her charity, Mary's submission, and the peace among the Scottish border that came with her marriage. It had to have come from the French court… but who? She did not know the court well enough to fully know, but the information that this was she and the French King had a rendezvous here, as well as that Anne had remained. They would have needed information on sensitive matters within the château as well. Her head snapped up to her ladies. Three of them seemed petrified, one did not. "Lucrezia, come here."

The lady obeyed silently. She stood in front of Anne as she glared down upon her. The girl finally dared to peer the Queen in the eyes when Anne slapped her. The girl grabbed her face as Anne demanded, "What did you do?"

She didn't cry, nor did the girl reply. "Who sent you? Why do I even need to ask… it was Catherine de Medici. What is she hoping to gain by killing me?"

The girl stays silent as Anne's mind begins to twirl. "She wouldn't. She sent you to come with me to England... to kill the Prince, so she may become Queen one day. You did this for someone else… but who? The Emperor? The pope? Both?"

The girl stared her down and Anne knew she had found her target. Anne dragged the girl by the arm and threw her into the hallway. "Stay out of my sight!"

Charles was strolling to her chambers as it happened. She snapped her head up at him, "If I spot this traitor in my room again, I will strangle her."

"Ah, m'lady that is not very unchristian like," the man teased.

"Like I said, she's a traitor. She would be lucky to die with such mercy," Anne spat.

"Ah, the word traitor depends on whom you ask, she is Italian and Catholic. She was being loyal to the Pope, a concept I am sure you do not understand," Charles chided.

Anne snorted, "How ironic. Getting lectured on loyalty to the Pope by the man who sacked Rome. Your manipulation of the church is the finest example of corruption in the Church."

"You insolate little-!" as he came close to striking her. "I am sorry. It is unbecoming to treat a lady as such."

"Let's not pretend you are not going to burn me the second you can," Anne demanded.

"Honest enough, but I do not need to beat you beforehand," Charles spoke smoothly.

"And what of my daughter?" Anne asked, trying not to focus on his admittance of her future. The first Queen to be burned.

"She is being taken care of in the nursery. She will make a good hostage to negotiate with after we are done here," he spoke as he grinned, basking in his victory.

"Why are you waiting?" Anne snapped.

Charles smiled, "I will dine with you tonight. I will be back around 6."

With that he left and Anne fell to the floor deflated. There was a pit in her gut telling her this was all her fault. She should never have left England. She should never have married Francis, and she should have simply become Henry's mistress. She could not bear the guilt of those who are dying for her and those she has hurt with her actions. Francis will have to fight to have yet another child returned to him, widowed again, and probably forced back into his marriage with Eleanor. Her children. What will become of them? Mary will protect them, at least try to. She glanced out the window and spotted a familiar flag. The crest of the Earldom of Ormond. She found a new wave of strength and prayed silently to herself.

A few hours later, true to his word, Charles returned, followed by platers full of food. She sat across from him, watching him carefully as he ordered everyone from the room. She was overly cautious, not eating anything he did not, knowing it probably did not matter. He would want her death to be public. She hoped he had not noticed the Irish ship that was in port earlier was owned by her father, and did her best to play her part for the moment. It was effortless, for the Emperor created the majority of their conversation.

"Why so quiet?" He asked suddenly, casually, as he cleaned his plate of its sweet sauce with his bread.

"It did not seem prudent for me to speak," Anne said as she sipped her wine. "I have nothing left to say to you."

"I highly doubt that," he smiled, "I am sure you have more than a few things you'd like to say to me. Ask me maybe?"

She glared at him before looking away, finally she looked back at him, "How do you expect this to play out?"

"What do you mean?" Charles asked, drinking his own wine.

"How do you foresee this playing out?" Anne asked, sitting up straighter, as rage began to fuel her. She just needed to hold out long enough. "You burn me alive, you force France to yield by holding an infant hostage, he yields lands to you, but he will never surrender, nor will the alliance that I have forged among your enemies. Princess Mary, Duchess of Beja, has no desire to usurp her brother, for she loves him, and will not have her siblings harmed. She will never trust or forgive you for hurting my child, our relationship may be timid, but she will never condone the exploitation of a babe. England will never yield to a foreigner, regardless of religion differences. You will create a martyr for my allies, enrage those who already seek your destruction, and ultimately fail in your ambition that has now caused so many lives. Your behavior is an insult to God and you do not deserve the crown upon your head. Especially since it truly belongs to your mother."

"How dare you, a heretic, speak of God," he fumed, "let alone dare to know his will."

"I was raised a Catholic, would you like me to recite my argument to you in Latin?" Anne raised her eyebrow. "It would not matter which language I say it, you commit the most unfathomable sins, and God will judge you harshly for them."

Charles lunged at her, grasping her neck tightly, his face red with fury. Their dinner was thrown to the floor, and she fell from her chair to the floor. As he held her down he whispered, "I will show you God's wrath, you witch!"

Anne's head began to throb, and she could not think straight for a moment due to the shock. Suddenly she remembered her blade, hidden within her sleeve. Slowly she fights against him; shoving him off her. She finds an opening and decks him in the chin, twisting onto her torso, grabbing the blade. Charles grabbed her dress, yanking her back to him, aiming once again for her throat. "You cannot run from me you who-"

Anne sat up and sank the blade in between his ribcage. She pulled it out, sinking it to him again, and repeating the act once more. He slumped against her, and she shoved him to the ground. She grabbed his blade and prepared to confront his guards. The door opened, and Anne dropped her sword as the Viscount of Rochford and Duke of Suffolk came rushing in, horrified by the sight before them. George gathered his sister up and moved her to different chambers, ordering guards to find the Princess, and for someone to clean up the mess. Anne faded in and out of consciousness in her brother's arms before sensing the soft bed and falling into a deep, and disturbing sleep.

It was midmorning before she awoke in chambers she did not recognize, her eyes slowly peeling open to her surroundings. They fluttered as she realized George was laying in front of her, and the events of the night prior raced through her mind. She shot up and her brother stood, "Anne! You're awake, thank the heavens. I was starting to think you would not do so."

"I-" Anne started before realizing she could not speak. Her throat ached far too much.

Her brother winced, "I'm sorry Anne. I failed you again. When I arrived, I saw the Spanish ships and knew something was wrong. We had to wait for nightfall to sneak into the castle… I was too late to protect you."

Anne shook her head and took a sip of water, forcing herself to comfort her crying brother. "No, George. I saw your flag and it gave me hope. I fought because of you."

He smiled as his cheeks shimmered, "Thank you sister. Now, no more talking. You must rest your throat. I ordered your maids bring some soup up for you if you are hungry. I should tell the physician you are awake."

With that he stood and left to do as he said as her two sisters joined her, Mary and Jane. They began to tend on her silently, already having witnessed her horrid bruising while she was asleep.

The group remained for only a few more days, preparing the deceased Emperor's body to travel to Paris, and eventually to his family in Spain. Anne shall travel to England, having been churched slightly early after everything, and her allies will join her to celebrate their victory. George has ensured all the proper channels were full of the news of the man's passing, and subsequently winning the war for the League. The ladies who remained from Queen Marguerite worked to assemble an array of gowns with necklines to hide the bruises surrounding the Queen Regent's neck for the return to England. The Italian traitor laid in the dungeons after being found attempting to flee. That was a conversation Anne dreaded. How does she tell her husband that the bride he chose for his son was willing to kill his heir? What will become of the Italian orphan? She knew she should hate the woman who caused this, but she found she could only pity the girl. Soon, sleep found her again, and the thoughts of how she should feel were drowned in a sea of nightmares.

Whitehall Palace

London, England

April 20, 1537

The journey home was oddly peaceful, and even the sea was calm, as though even God smiled upon her victory. It was slow moving though, as Anne was still recovering from everything. She was simply grateful to be on English soil. The litter rolled into the palace late at night, and she was met by her council. They all tried to conceal the look of horror on their face as Anne stepped into view. While the bruising on her neck was covered, the ones on her face, highlighted by her paleness, were evident. She still could not eat properly and it was affecting her contour as well as her weight. The men in front of her were aghast at the sight in front of them, angry and scared for the mother of their Queen. Thankful they had let Princess Mary rest until morning.

They slipped her quietly into the palace and into her rooms, where she was met with her most trusted ladies, other than her sisters: Madge Norris, Margaret Lee, and Margery Horseman. They had not been properly warned of their mistress's status, and collectively gasped when they unbuttoned her high-neck gown. She looked at them solemnly, "Fear not ladies. I have looked into the face of death, and I have survived. The worst is behind us."

They nodded and continued to undress her, as her sisters finished preparing the bath her ladies had started as soon as word reached them that she was near. They led Anne to the rose and lavender filled tub, with only Lady Lee remaining to help wash her when she was ready. This was the closest she could be to being alone, with her childhood friend nearby and a warmed, spice wine next to her. She sat there silently before sinking down below the water, willing to gain control of her thoughts, which would not stop replaying that night over and over again. She soon resurfaced, letting a sense of numbness cover her.

Her childhood friend kneeled next to her and began scrubbing her hair and dressing it with lavender and rose oils. She whispered, "do you wish to speak about it, your majesty?"

"No," Anne said in a hollow tone, "but thank you. Thank you for being here as well. I see your face and remember the children, we used to be, even Thomas before he decided to be a poet in love with me."

She nodded and continued in silence. Before long, Anne was clean, dried, and redressed in a fresh nightgown. She crawled into her bed and drifted to sleep, praying for no nightmares.

The next morning she woke screaming before she heard a deep voice, begging her to calm down.

"François?" Anne breathed out. She shot upward searching desperately for her husband. She found him slumped against the bedpost. Her ladies have been long gone from the room. "When did you arrive? What happened to you?"

"I might ask that same of you, mon amor," he sighed, stealing his jaw looking at her neck.

"You do not know?" Anne asked quietly.

"I think I can guess. I arrived yesterday afternoon. I couldn't stand being useless in Hesse after my injury, and was headed to England to wait for your return. As a surprise. I woke this morning to hear the whispers that you had returned. I believe they wanted to keep what he did to you from me, so I wouldn't hunt him down in rage. I paid your guards to let me in and was probably unnecessarily rude to your loyal sisters who were sleeping on your couches in case you needed them. I will apologize. I just had to know if you were here…" he trailed off not knowing what else he could say about his reaction to finding her in such a state.

"He didn't rape me… if that is what you are thinking," Anne said, pulling herself up properly, as she forced her tears down. Her voice rasped, she continued, "As for hunting him down, his body is in your sister's care in Paris."

His eyes widened. "George?"

She shook her head.

"Lord Suffolk?"

Again she shook her head.

"Your guard?"

She repeated the action.

"You?"

She nodded in admittance, swallowing more tears with a harsh whimper. He shoved himself forward, grunting in pain from his still healing stomach wound. Her eyes widened, and he smiled sheepishly, "I was harmed in a blast of foolishness on the battlefield. I got in too deep. I am sorry I was not more careful..."

She reached over to her night stand where some watered down ale sat. "The Duchess of Orléans sent a spy to kill the dauphin. The pope gave the girl the order to spy on me instead. She gave away my position. Don't worry, I sent her to your sister as well, though she is alive, with the truth of the dauphine's treason. The Pope, he was playing you both to see who would win. Charles captured the castle and held me captive. He had planned to kill me and use Louise as a hostage. I knew George was close by, so I provoked him. He tried to strangle me...and I...I stabbed him until he died."

She turned her face, letting the tears flow. It was the first time she admitted it aloud. He pulled her into his shoulder, "Sshhh, you did what you had to do. He was a monster, the worst example possible of a Christian. You are a hero."

She wept harder as he comforted her. It was a hollow victory.