Prologue
Revelations - May 1523
The image before him was haunting. Dark ebony hair pulled tight behind a blanched white hood. Deep onyx eyes stared solemnly forward . Endlessly searching for a familiar face in a sea of endless disdain. Slowly her obsidian orbs found him and a slow smile graced her delicate face as she focused her view upon the people before her.
"Good Christian people, I am come hither to die, for according to the law, and by the law I am judged to die, and therefore I will speak nothing against it. I am come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak anything of that, whereof I am accused and condemned to die, but I pray God save the king and send him long to reign over you, for a gentler nor a more merciful prince was there never: and to me he was ever a good, a gentle and sovereign lord."
For a single moment she paused her momentary delay detectable only by those who knew her nature and once more her opaque gaze locked with his own "And if any person will meddle of my cause, I require them to judge the best" Her eyes all at once ancient and all knowing illuminated in humourless mirth "And thus I take my leave of the world and of you all, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me". A slight half smile graced her lips as she closed her eyes in determined solace "O Lord have mercy on me, to God I commend my soul."
Reverently she bowed her head and turned her slender neck to speak with the hooded figure who stood behind her. Her essences, calm and composed. A mask of tranquillity to cloak the vestige of horror that trembled within. In that moment his eyes scanned the breadth of the Tower Green and the hoard of spectators who stood before her scaffold. Slowly he found the Duke of Suffolk's indifferent figure "It is said that the Queen entertains men at indecent hours in her chambers and does not honour the exalted position she has been bequeathed" The rasped and whispered words reverberated throughout his mind.
Before he was able to grasp the meaning of those serpentine words she spoke once more. Her grey damask gown crumbled as she bent and knelt delicately upon the scattered straw.. "To Jesus Christ I commend my soul; Lord Jesus receive my soul" Her eyes closed in desperate prayer as she repeated her pleas for salvation.
Realisation finally dawned upon him as her eyelids fluttered and her dark gaze seared into his own and then shifted to the looming executioner who stood behind. "Boy fetch me my sword." Terror spured him into action, his heart drumming endlessly, pounding in his ears. In desperation he attempted to shift his feet against the solid force that compressed him . Even his voice was stifled when he sought to command the executioner. A valid effort in futility.
In panic his eyes searched the silent crowd who had knelt before her. But his view caused only despair and anguish. The fallen figure of Thomas Cranmer whispering in silent prayer. His head bowed in repentance and grief "She who has been the Queen of England on Earth will today become a Queen in Heaven" The voice resounded deep within his mind. Forcing him to look away from the kneeling priest and back to the confused boy who stood before the scaffold and the Queen who knelt upon it.
With silent defiance he struggled in vain against the shield that bound him. Senselessly fighting to save her, to save himself and defy the folly that had befallen them. His heart pounded as the executioner withdrew his sword. A glimmering line of silver from beneath the golden hay that lay upon the platform. His only comfort was that she would not see her death blow. Her eyes stared endlessly at the boy before scaffold. Scanning his puzzled face and waiting for the sword. The strike was swift and clean. One single smooth impact severed her head from her slender neck as her crimson lips parted to exhale their last silent scream. In horror he cried, staring ceasingly at the tall stone walls and towers that had been her prison.
It was there he saw the fallen frame of Thomas Wyatt. His form, a crumpled heap upon a window. Ever an admirer and friend Wyatt had borne witness to her final moment. Determined to stand with her even until her end. " These bloody days have broken my heart. My lust, my youth did them depart, And blind desire of estate. Who hastens to climb seeks to revert" The words pounded upon his soul as they resounded in the empty chambers of his heart and brought him to his knees.
It was here at the foot of her scaffold mere feet from her slight, pale and bloodless body that he wept. His horse and ragged voice finally screamed her name "Anne".