Chapter Twenty-Eight: Never Forget

"I want that man dead!" Anne Boleyn was only hours from death. Yet instead of weeping or praying she was pacing back and forth in her narrow prison chamber in the Tower of London. Suddenly she stopped and stabbed her finger into Heath Blackwell's massive chest. "I want him dead, and I want his school burned to the ground. And I want you to do the killing. Make that happen and I'll confess to the king. I'll scribble a note on my way to the scaffold, and say your pretty golden girl was innocent all along."

"You know, Your Grace, most people try to get right with God, when they're about to . . . when they don't have much time left."

"I'm not most people." Anne Boleyn gave a sharp laugh. "You expect me to get down on my knees, and pray for forgiveness? Not likely! Everything I did, I did for the family. Nobody ever hurts my family! That's why I want that pig to pay for what he did to my brother George. I want St. Edmund's College burned to the ground and I want the headmaster to roast in his own blood!"

"Do you have any proof the man is guilty?" Heath was moved by the queen's passionate fury. But he was also aware of her cunning. Maybe the old headmaster really had abused her brother George. But Heath was in love with beautiful Lady Eleanor, and Anne Boleyn hated Lady Eleanor Luke. She might very well try to spoil the wedding by getting the groom locked up for murder.

"You know I don't." All at once Anne sat down on a stool, looking less like a queen and more like a haunted, lonely young woman. "I must die soon. I have to die alone, because my brother is dead. And my coward of a father won't even visit me! George would, if he were still alive. Everyone remembers my brother the way he was at the end. An arrogant little shit, cheating on his wife. But he wasn't like that when we were children. That place changed him. I hate that bastard Selby and I hate that fancy school!"

Heath didn't like the skinny, angry, green-eyed queen. In pursuit of her ambitions, she'd done enormous harm to countless innocent people, including the innocent and lovely Lady Eleanor. But Heath had been in some very bad places, and he's seen some very bad men face death by gun, knife, or rope. Not one had met his end with the steely-eyed courage of Anne Boleyn.

"I won't promise to kill a man I don't even know," he said, looking the proud and somehow undefeated young queen right in the eye. "But I can give you my word of honor on this much. Sign that note and restore Lady Eleanor's reputation, and I will look into Master Selby's past behavior. If the truth is as you say I'll destroy the man completely and leave his fine college in ruins."

"Now you're talking." Queen Anne signed the note with a crooked smile, as though she were still at the height of her power. Shoving the parchment across the desk, she gave Heath a look that was both wicked and strangely wistful. "You've got it bad for that blonde, don't you? Nobody ever loved me the way you love her. You don't even care that she's slept with other men!"

"I care," Heath said gruffly, stuffing the note into his fine doublet. "But I never judge a woman by her mistakes, Your Grace. What counts is how she behaves afterwards. That makes all the difference in how I feel about a woman . . . or a queen."

"You talk the talk," Anne told him, with that same crooked smile. "Too bad I won't be around to see you walk the walk. Now get out of here, Blackwell. The swordsman from Calais is due any minute. I've got a few last tears I've got to shed, and I'll be damned if I ever let any man see me cry."

Heath bowed low to the fearless queen. "Anne Boleyn, you've got guts. England will never forget you."