The Queen's Bed Chamber
Mary tells her she is delivered of a healthy baby girl. The news distresses her for a moment. The child was not the son she promised. But soon, a new distress rises in her heart, and a great pain lances through her belly.
"Something's wrong…" she says, her voice little more than a harsh whisper.
The midwives pat her hand and say something about after birth. She'd asked Mary about labor weeks ago. Mary said the after pains were subtler. These seemed not subtle in the least.
"Something's wrong," she tried again more firmly. She was Queen of England. These people should not be ignoring her.
The King's Presence Chamber
"…and all the women whores!" Henry laughs with the men assembled. He doesn't notice Cromwell at first. Not until the news is whispered in his ear. It makes laughter feel sour. His mother was the oldest of three sisters before a son was born. Perhaps…
He'll have to go see her, them. He excuses himself and makes his way to the Queen's Apartments.
"Majesty," the ladies intone on his entry. His eyes are for Anne and the babe alone, but he still barely takes them in.
"I'm so sorry." Her voice is a little breathless, like she is still in pain. Though he supposes they don't call it labor for no reason, so he ignores the slight misgiving he feels over it.
"You and I are both young, and by God's grace, boys will follow." They share a nod, so he leaves.
Upon reaching his own apartment he tries to remember the name of that girl Brandon pointed out to him.
The Queen's Bed Chamber
"Mary? Mary," Anne calls out. These blasted ninnies still aren't listening to her. Mary will listen.
"Annie, what is it?" Mary enters and kneels next to her to stroke her cheek. "You're so pale."
"Mary, something is wrong."
Mary scrutinizes her face for a moment and nods. "Let me fetch the King's physician. George told me how good he was to you when you'd caught the sweat. He'll be able to help."
"There's really no need to bother the King's man. It's just the after taking its time," one of the women says. It makes Mary get that stubborn look on her face that she used to get when they were little girls and someone said something disparaging about one of her siblings.
"A mother knows. If Anne says something is wrong, then something is wrong. Dr. Linacre will see and will put all our minds at ease. Now, if you'll excuse me."
Dr. Linacre's Rooms
There is a swift knocking on his door. One of the stewards assigned to him enters at his call. The Queen's sister follows him in with a look of worry on her face.
"I'm sorry sir. She wouldn't wait for an answer—"
"Something is wrong with Anne," Lady Mary interrupts. "She mentioned it shortly after the babe was born. I thought while I went to inform Mr. Cromwell of the news for the King that her attendants had sorted what was bothering her in my absence. They did not. Please check on her. She's never been one to exaggerate poor feeling, far more likely to ignore it as an inconvenience. If she says something is wrong—."
"Of course," he says interrupting. It might be rude, but her worry is making her ramble. And if something is truly wrong, every moment counts. "Let me fetch my bag and then lead on, my lady."
The Queen's Bed Chamber
Anne feels barely coherent when Mary returns, Dr. Linacre following close behind. She nods her consent to examination. He begins to touch her belly, pressing here or there with a frown growing on his face. She hisses at a sudden pain, and his frown deepens.
He turns to Mary and whispers something to her. Soon she is giving orders in the other room, though Anne can't focus well enough to make them out. And now Dr. Linacre is saying something to her. It doesn't make sense. So she tells him as much.
"Majesty, you will need to push when I say. Do you understand?"
"Yes, but why?"
"There is a second babe, majesty."
"You said before. How is that so?"
"Twins do happen sometimes. I'm not sure if anyone but God knows why. Are you ready?"
She isn't, but she nods. Another babe? She's already so tired. What if it's another girl? Would that be better or worse? What if the babe doesn't make it? She's heard that long births can take their toll on the child as well as the mother. It's been almost half a day since her daughter was successfully born and placed in her arms. Why had no one believed her when she said something was wrong?
"Alright, your majesty. Push."
The King's Apartments
He's barely finished "playing chess" with Mistress Luke when there is a racket from without his chamber. His grooms and pages all know better than to disturb him when he is playing. Even when the news about his uncle being murdered arrived they didn't make such a noise. The only reason he can think that they would chance his ire is if something happened to the babe or to Anne. Oh God, what if the child was gone already? Or what if Anne was less well than she'd seemed? Had God called them both away so suddenly? Was he truly so cursed? Flinging his doublet back on, he goes to investigate.
He shouts, "What is the meaning of this?"
One of the grooms that has been in his employ the longest steps forward, eyes wide with some distress, and bows. "Your majesty, Lady Margaret Sheldon is without. She has brought urgent news from the Queen's chambers. It seems her majesty is in labor."
"What? Her majesty has birthed a baby girl this day. Why is Lady Sheldon bringing old news? Send her in."
The woman that enters is quite pretty. Or she would be if not for the clear distress on her face. She curtsies before him and waits for him to respond.
"Rise. You bring news from the Queen?"
"Yes, your majesty. She's in labor…again."
"Again? How?"
"Her majesty was complaining about some pains. It worried her sister terribly. So she sought Dr. Linacre. He says there's another baby."
She barely has the words out before he's moving. He motions her to follow. He needs to see Anne. It doesn't matter in that moment that, king or no, he'd not be allowed in the birthing room. He needs to know she's well. That this isn't some hallucination.
"Lady Sheldon, have her father or brother been informed?"
"Mary asked me send a page when she sent me to inform you, your majesty."
He nods and begins to ask more when he hears the cries. It isn't a hallucination. That's his Anne crying out from pain.
When he arrives, Mary Boleyn is just coming from behind the curtains to Anne's bed chamber. Her gown and hands are bloodstained. She barks orders at the closest women. It's an odd sensation. She's always seemed so sweet if a bit on the dull side. Clearly she becomes a lion when someone she cares for needs her.
She looks up and notices him, but another cry makes her turn her head towards the sister he cannot see.
"Go to her." The words are ripped out before he can think. "Tell her of my love and that I'm praying for her strength. She needs you."
"Thank you, your majesty. It will give her strength to know your mind is with her. Madge will take care of you if you stay."
She's gone before he can ask who "Madge" is.
Lady Sheldon shows him a chair and asks if wants some refreshments. Her words seem fuzzy on the edges. They make sense, but he can't quite grasp them. So he just nods and sits. Listening to his wife struggle behind a curtain, he's never felt so useless. It isn't a pleasant feeling.
George slides into the room out of breath and eyes wild. He grabs Lady Sheldon by the arm. While Henry can understand his distress, it's not a good enough reason to accost the woman. He is about to say something when George finally finds his tongue.
"Cousin Madge, what's happened?"
"Did the page not tell you? There's a second babe. Anne's still in labor."
"Oh God…"
"Sit out of the way, George. If you faint, there's no one to spare to tend you."
"But another baby Madge. Twins! How did no one know?"
"I mean it, cousin. Sit. And maybe pray…"
When George finally manages to hear her, they sit together in silence. Wine is put before them and they sip and wait. And wait. And wait.
It's just gone midnight when the cries change from those of a woman grown to those of a babe. This time, though still bloody, when Mary emerges, she is beaming. She strides directly to him.
With a curtsy and smile, she says, "Her majesty is delivered of a healthy baby boy, your majesty."
A boy. Their boy. And a girl. Anne had given what she'd promised and more.
"Can I see her? And him?"
"Soon, your majesty."
"Thank you, my lady. George, inform your father and see that the bells are rung. I don't care how late it is. I want everyone to know how much God has blessed us this day."
"Right away, your majesty. Congratulations, your majesty."
The Queen's Bed Chamber
The sheets are changed while she is given a new nightgown. One of her ladies brushes her hair and braids it so she will be at least somewhat presentable. She hears the bells ring for her success. And through all, her eyes are for her son and her son alone.
He is so beautiful. Though he is not the living image of his father as she had hoped, he is perfect. He has a dark shock of hair on his head to name him hers, the opposite of his sister whose delicate hair seemed to be pointing towards blonde or red. And the brief moment she saw his eyes opened, she thought them green as emeralds.
Finally, she is settled on the bed and he is placed in her arms. His perfect little hand grasps her finger. Her little Harry…
This time when Henry enters, it takes her a moment to lift her smile from her son to greet him. She is so tired but so happy.
"Henry, you were right. A boy did follow, look." He dismisses her ladies and sits next to her on the bed. When Henry looks down, their boy opens his eyes as if he already knows that his father is there with them. "He's already so clever. Our boy…our Harry."
"Our Harry. He's perfect, Anne. He so like you."
"Do you mind? That he's not your image?"
"My mother. She didn't speak of her mother often. Grandmother wouldn't have it, you see. But one of the things I remember her saying was about her mother's eyes. They were green as a river, bright as emeralds. It seems he's gotten Elizabeth Woodville's eyes. I've always thought our love was a little like theirs, hers and the forth Edward. I think it a good sign. Our Harry."
One of her ladies enters. Apparently he did not simply dismiss them but requested that one brought their daughter to them from the nursery. Henry leaves Harry in her arms and takes their daughter into his own.
"I was thinking Elizabeth. For my mother and yours. I know since they are twins we should name her Anne. So they are Henry and Anne the same as we. But perhaps, we should keep Elizabeth for her brother's Woodville eyes as well as both our mothers. Anne?"
"Elizabeth. Yes, I think she's Elizabeth as much as he is Harry."
"Je suis en famille," he whispers. With a kiss to her cheek he rises, "you've done well, my love. It is long past time for sleep. Get some rest."