First of all, the response to the first chapter was absolutely amazing, so I would like to take the opportunity to thank SassyAni, CordeliaHalliwell, Tasteless Rain, Boleyn Girl13, MonicaOP, GHH, LadyShard, Eloria-x, ladyIce, KayBayyy2342, chris1519, Starfire201, VintageLyre, Pandora of Ithilien, cruelangel, ladyinwaiting2005, Barbara Lynn, heavenleigh88, Lady Eleanor Boleyn, Anne Boleyn 88, EugeniaVictoria, Mutt N. Feathers, black mage wannabe, missingthepoint, SBoleyn, Essence-chan, tigeruawish, Liva Alycie, Linda, Gwyne, DXRULES103 and ncfan for their kind reviews.
You all make it so much easier to write with your encouragement and support. Thank you.
Secondly, this chapter is going to be quite flashback-heavy, since Henry is a slow learner and needs to have things hammered into his thick skull before he learns his lesson. Next chapters won't be flashback-based.
II
Truth
Anne was the one who had wanted a French swordsman to preside over her execution.
For the men who were accused with her, and who preceded her to the scaffold, the services of one of the English executioners, together with the customary axe, would have to suffice – and they could consider themselves fortunate that they were to be spared the worse penalty of hanging, drawing and quartering, which would have been their fate if he had not commuted their sentences, an act of kindness that they certainly did not deserve, after the way they had betrayed his trust – but Anne, having heard stories of how executions could be botched if the axeman's aim was faulty, was terrified of the pain she might endure and had written to him, pleading with him that, if it was his pleasure that she should die, he could send for the Executioner of Calais, who would be able to behead her in one swift and painless stroke, and he had agreed to her request, though not so much for the sake of sparing Anne pain as to ensure that there would be no botched execution that might anger the crowds and lead them to accuse him of having Anne butchered.
Though he would never understand why, when the people of England had steadfastly refused to accept that Anne was their Queen and when many of them had heaped insults on Anne as a concubine, despising her as the perceived cause of his decision to annul his marriage to Katherine, whom they loved, they should suddenly side with her when it emerged that their allegations about her being a whore had had a great deal of truth in them, instead of gloating over her downfall and delighting in the fact that they were proven right about her, they had felt sympathy towards her instead, with many refusing to believe the charges laid against and insisting that the trial was nothing more than a pretext for getting rid of her so that Jane might take her place as Queen.
Instead of rejoicing to see Anne meet her just desserts, as he had confidently expected would be the case, instead of feeling vindicated to know that all they had said about Anne's unworthiness to be his wife and Queen had been proven true and taking satisfaction in the fact that they were right all along, instead of celebrating the fact that they would soon have a Queen they could willingly accept, their anger and indignation was directed at him instead, and even against Jane, despite the precautions he had taken in sending Jane away from court before Anne was arrested.
He had sent her away to protect her reputation and so that he would not be accused of allowing an unjust trial and execution in order to free himself from a wife he no longer wished to be tied to, now that another lady held his heart in her hands and it was his earnest desire to marry her but, for all the good it did either of them, he might as well have kept Jane at court and enjoyed her company for those weeks instead of depriving himself of her sweet, gentle presence.
Anne asked him to send for the Executioner of Calais before her trial had even commenced.
She knew then, as he did now, that she had never had any hope of being freed, even if she was innocent. Her fate was decided as soon as she was arrested and conducted to the Tower, as soon as Brandon alleged misconduct on her part and Henry commanded Cromwell to investigate the matter because, of all of the nobles that would sit in judgement on her case, twenty-six of the highest lords in England, there was not a single one of them who would dare to declare her innocent if they believed their King wanted her condemned.
Their first desire would be to please him, whether they believed Anne guilty or innocent.
Despite the fact that he sent for the Executioner as soon as Anne's request was made known to him, thinking that, given the seriousness of the charges against Anne, the chances that she might be declared innocent were slim and knowing that, even if she was acquitted, the Executioner could be sent back to Calais, paid a fee for his trouble even if his services were not required, the man still arrived late, so that Anne was executed two days after the others and, before then, left waiting in her lodging in the Tower until her executioner arrived.
He could remember how furious he was when Cromwell told him that the Executioner of Calais had yet to arrive, as he was painfully aware that every hour that Anne remained alive was an hour when he was forced to wait before he could marry his sweet Jane. He had not thought about how Anne might have taken news of the delay, when Kingston told her that her execution was to be postponed by more than a day because her executioner had yet to arrive to do the job.
Was she glad to think that she would live another day, hoping that if she could have a few extra days of life, he would relent and commute her sentence to exile instead of allowing her execution to proceed, or did she just want the Executioner to arrive so that it could all be over?
It troubled him that he couldn't answer this question, despite how long he had known Anne.
The Executioner's face was covered by his mask, with his eyes gleaming through the slits and Henry shivered involuntarily at the sight of the cold anger that burned in those eyes. He could imagine that this was how a man must feel when he died and faced God's judgement, knowing that, no matter how much wealth or power he had enjoyed during his lifetime, those things would avail him nothing now that he was face to face with a judge who would not be swayed by Earthly matters, and who would examine his sins impartially before he pronounced judgement.
"Do you believe it?" The voice was devoid of all emotion, neither angry nor sympathetic, and so cold that Henry imagined icicles falling with each words. There was no hint of a French accent either, something that sent shivers down his spine. Was this really the Executioner of Calais, or just somebody who had assumed his form to speak to him. "Do you believe that she was guilty?"
"They told me that she was!" Henry protested, even though, in his heart, he knew that his protests would avail him nothing. Those cold eyes could probably see beyond his skin, so that they could read his mind, his heart and his soul. He could have no secrets from this man, even if he could deceive everybody else in the world, himself included. "There was an investigation, and a trial, and I was told that she was guilty. I had to act once I was told that. I had no choice. I couldn't allow any subject, not even the Queen, commit treason and get away with it!"
"Did you attend the trial?" The Executioner enquired of him. "Did you think to attend, concealed by a screen if you were afraid of what might happen if you were seen there in person? Were you there to see her condemned... or was there somewhere else that you felt you needed to be?"
Henry could feel a wave of embarrassment suffuse him at this pointed question and he was sure that, if not for the chill of his bedchamber, his cheeks would be scarlet.
While Anne's trial had occupied his thoughts in those days, and while he had spent time with Archbishop Cranmer, pressing him to find grounds for their marriage to be annulled so that he could be certain that Anne's daughter would never be able to sit on his throne ahead of a child that his sweet Jane bore him, he knew that he would not have attended her trial, even if he had not found the thought of listening to an account of her crimes unbearable. Those days were spent riding to Wolf Hall to visit Jane and her family and, on the days when he could not get away from London, or when he thought that it was better for him to preserve some discretion, for the sake of protecting Jane's reputation, he spent his time with Jane's brothers, who remained at court.
He wanted to spend time with his future brothers-in-law, to show them that they would never have cause to regret that their sister had won his heart. He was determined that the Seymours would benefit far more from his favour than the Boleyns had because he was determined to show the world how much he loved Jane.
The last thing he wanted was to see Anne again.
If he saw her again, he was certain that, if he did not strangle her with his own hands as soon as he laid eyes on her, there was an even greater risk, a risk that she would be able to bewitch him once more, making him forget all about her betrayal, about all the pain and strife she had brought to him, his daughter and his country, that she would make him forget that he loved Jane and longed to marry her, forget that he wanted to set her aside even before he learned of her crimes, and leaving him able to think of her only as the woman he loved and for whom he had risked all.
He couldn't take the chance that she would convince him to take her back as his Queen.
"Why not?" The Executioner's voice was grave as he asked this question, plucking the thought from Henry's mind and pressing him on the subject. "Why should you have been unwilling to take her back as your Queen? If you learned that she was innocent, would you not think that it was her right to resume her place by your side, as your Queen? Would you not feel that you would be honour-bound to give up the woman, Jane Seymour, and know that she could not be your Queen, however much you and she might have wished for it?"
Henry knew that he should have been able to say that, if Anne was innocent, he would have recognized that it was his duty to restore her to her place as his Queen, or he could argue that, innocent or not, his marriage to Anne was still an unlawful union, one that he would have been obliged to dissolve, whether she was guilty or not, and that he would still have been free to make Jane his new wife, as soon as the legalities of the annulment were concluded, but he couldn't force his tongue to speak either statement because he couldn't be sure that either was true.
If he was presented with proof of Anne's innocence before her trial took place, and he declared that the charges against her were groundless, vindicating her before the people, they would not have accepted it if he had then declared that, although Anne was innocent, she was not truly his wife and he was still going to set her aside and raise Jane to the throne in her place.
They would believe that the trial was manufactured to free him and that even though he could not go through with allowing the execution of an innocent woman, he was still prepared to do whatever he could to be rid of her, now that he had found somebody else.
Even if he knew, would he have saved Anne's life, or would he have chosen to let her die?
Would her life have mattered more to him than the chance of being free to marry Jane?
"Only you can answer that question." The Executioner told him. "And you can't answer it until you know the truth. Sheathing his sword, he reached out to take Henry's arm in a vice-like grip, his fingers as hard and cold as stone as they wrapped around his bicep. "We need to take a journey."
"Where?" Henry asked, afraid of where the Executioner might take him.
The Executioner shook his head. "Not 'where'. When."
Great gusts of icy air wafted through the bedchamber, even though none of the windows were open, and Henry found himself shivering. He watched with wide eyes as the walls of the room seemed to melt away, the panelling replaced by cold, grey stones, the fine furniture disappearing and leaving behind only a bare stretch of corridor. It was dark and dank, so much so that Henry didn't need to ask where the Executioner had brought him. Two men were walking in front of them and Henry followed, knowing without looking that the Executioner had fallen into step beside him.
He recognized Cranmer by his purple vestments, and he knew the other man as Sir William Kingston, Constable of the Tower, the man in whose care Anne was placed for her final days.
"Master Kingston, tell me, how is the Queen?" Cranmer asked anxiously. He could not refer to Anne as Queen any longer, though Henry suspected that he probably wanted to.
"Truthfully, in the early days of her captivity, she often spoke rather wildly; for example, that it would not rain until she was released." Master Kingston made his report in a matter of fact manner. "But now, according to her almoner, preparations for death have increasingly occupied her thoughts, and so I believe she is reconciled to it."
"Can anybody truly become reconciled to such a fate, I wonder." The Executioner mused aloud. Henry started at his words, looking at Cranmer and Kingston, expecting them to turn around and realize that they were being followed, every word they spoke overheard by their sovereign, but they gave no indication that they had heard. "They can't hear us, or see us. This is the past, as it happened, and there is nothing that I can do to change it... unless you let me."
"What do you..."
"Not yet." The Executioner cut him off before he could voice his question. "In time, you will know."
"I am glad. I am glad." Cranmer spoke the words softly, looking close to tears. "Although it grieves me that I must cause her further pain."
When they reached the door of Anne's lodging, he waited for Kingston to knock before they were admitted. Anne had been sitting on her bed while the maids assigned to tend to her needs cleaned the chamber. Once he entered, one of the maids left her task and began to help him set out the items he had brought, as well as a cushion on which Anne might kneel to receive the sacraments.
It was plain that Cranmer did not want to say what he had come to say but he was duty-bound to inform Anne of the investigation he had conducted, at Henry's instigation, as well as the result that investigation had reached, despite the fact that it could make no difference to her position now, except to cause her pain in her final hours. "My lady, I am obliged to tell you that your marriage to the King has been declared null and void." He could barely bring himself to look at her.
"On what grounds?" Anne asked, clearly taken aback.
"On the grounds of your close and forbidden degree of affinity to another woman known carnally by the King." Cranmer's difficulty in speaking the words was apparent, and far from surprising. It was he who, in the days before Henry married Anne, had meticulously examined the Bible and countless theological studies to determine that, despite the fact that Mary Boleyn was once Henry's mistress, that was no impediment to his marriage to her younger sister, as they were never married and he had never promised Mary marriage. Back then, Henry would have been incensed if he was told that he couldn't marry Anne. Now, he wanted a different answer.
"My sister?" Anne confirmed.
"Yes."
"Then my daughter is..." Her eyes were wide at the thought, and her face pale.
"Yes." Cranmer told her, his eyes shining, as though he was perilously close to weeping. "Elizabeth is to be declared a bastard."
If Henry was honest with himself, he had to admit that he had wanted to cause Anne pain by letting her know that her daughter was to be declared illegitimate and barred from the succession; if she was Norris' bastard, he wanted her to know that she had not succeeded in securing a royal title and estate for that bastard, and even if Elizabeth was his child, he wanted Anne to know that no child born of her could enjoy his favour, and that, thanks to her crimes, even her child would suffer. However, now that he saw Anne close her eyes upon hearing this news, and could imagine her distress at the thought that he would cast Elizabeth aside too, he felt sickened at the memory of the spite that had made him so determined to see to it that Anne's last hours would be as painful as he could make them, and that she would not even have the consolation of thinking that, whatever happened to her, she could take solace in the fact that her beloved child was safe.
Even if he couldn't allow Elizabeth to retain her title as Princess... and now that he knew that she was his daughter, he couldn't keep himself from thinking that it was never necessary for him to declare her a bastard... he could have waited before he commanded Cranmer to find a reason to annul his marriage, and let Anne die believing that Elizabeth's position was unaltered.
"If she was never your wife, how can she have committed adultery?" The Executioner enquired.
Henry had no answer to give him.
When Cranmer saw how distressed Anne was by the news he was obliged to give her, he hastened to comfort her, as best he could. "Madam, I swear to you I will do everything within my power to protect and support her, and keep her always in the King's good and kind graces."
"Thank you." Anne said quietly. "And now, since my time approaches, I beg Your Grace to hear my confession." As Cranmer led her to the spot where a chair was set out for him and a cushion for her, Kingston turned to leave the room, to allow them some privacy, but Anne halted him with her next words. "Also, I should like the constable present when I receive the good Lord."
"Madam." Kingston inclined his head, acquiescing to her request and knowing why she made it.
Like any other condemned prisoner, Anne would never dare to die with a lie on her lips, or after omitting anything from her confession, nor would she perjure herself before God by claiming innocence of sins she had committed. If she did, she would condemn herself to an eternity in Purgatory, as there could be no hope of salvation, of divine mercy or a place in Heaven for somebody who refused to confess her sins and ask for absolution for the crimes she had committed during her lifetime. Cranmer was bound to preserve the seal of the confessional, even after her death, and would not be able to break it, even if Henry himself commanded him to report Anne's words, but as a witness to Anne's last confession, Kingston would be duty-bound to report it if that was her wish, even if her words might cause offence.
"My child, do you have a confession?" Cranmer asked gently, once he was seated in his chair and Anne was kneeling by his side.
"Yes. I confess my innocence before God. I solemnly swear, on the damnation of my soul, that I have never been unfaithful to my lord and husband, nor ever offended with my body against him. I do not say that I have always borne towards him the humility which I owed him," she admitted, "considering his kindness and the great honour he showed me and the great respect he always paid me. I admit, too, that I have often taken it into my head to be jealous of him. But God knows, and is my witness, I have not sinned against him in any other way."
Henry could hear the sincerity of each word she spoke. He had seen the words on paper and dismissed them as a lie... wanted to dismiss them as a lie... but he could not do the same now that he was hearing her for himself. A lump formed in his throat as he listened to the way she spoke about the respect he paid her, and the kindness and honour he showed her. He hadn't shown her much kindness, honour or respect over the past months, and their relationship had deteriorated dramatically, but that had not been what Anne wanted to remember about him.
She wanted to remember the man who had loved her, and who swore that he always would.
"Think not I say this in the hope to prolong my life," Anne said, as aware as everybody else present that there could be no hope of a reprieve at this stage. "God has taught me how to die and He will strengthen my faith. As for my brother and those others who were unjustly condemned," it was difficult for her to think about George and the other men who died thanks to the allegations made against her but she managed to control herself. "I would willingly have suffered many deaths to deliver them, but since I see it pleases the King, I will willingly accompany them in death, with this assurance: that I shall lead an endless life with them in peace."
"In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit." Cranmer made the sign of the Cross on Anne's forehead, blessing her before he turned his attention to Kingston, who rose when Cranmer spoke his name. "Master Kingston, please go and make sure to report my lady's true and last confession, so the world will know it." He ordered, his voice steady.
"I will." Kingston promised with a bow.
As soon as he left the room, Anne's calm deserted her and she reached out to clutch at Cranmer's hand. "Mr. Cranmer, I do not suppose that, even at this last hour, the evangelical bishops that we put in place might intervene for me?" She pleaded.
"Your Majesty, I..." Cranmer, shocked into using the now forbidden address, tried to pull away. He would have loved to be able to give her the hope she craved, would have loved to be able to tell her that, as they spoke, the evangelical bishops who, like him, owed their careers to Anne, were pleading her case with the King, begging him to find it in his heart to show her mercy and allow her to live out her days in quiet exile but he couldn't tell her that. Like everybody else who had once courted Anne's friendship, like everybody who had advanced through her, they were deserting her in their droves, like rats fleeing a sinking ship, and would be of no help to her.
"No, I understand." Anne said, before he had to tell her that there would be no help coming to her from that quarter. "How could they? Forgive me." She stayed kneeling on the ground, even after Cranmer begged permission to leave her and hastened from the room.
Henry moved forward automatically to help her to her feet, hating to see her kneeling there like that, broken and defeated, but when he touched her, his fingers passed through her and the scene shifted, leaving him feeling disoriented. When he recovered, he registered that he was still in the same room, and that Anne was still there, but she was not kneeling, she was standing, while her maids helped her wash and dress and her almoner read aloud, his words almost melodic.
"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under Heaven. A time to be born, and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted. A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to cast away stones and a time to gather stones together. A time to mourn and a time to dance. That which hath been is now and that which is to be has already been. A time to get and a time to lose, a time to keep and a time to cast away. A time to rend and a time to sew, a time to keep silence and a time to speak. I said in my heart, God shall judge the righteous and the wicked for there is a time for every purpose under the sun."
As the almoner read, Anne's maids tended to her gown and her shoes and her hair, while Anne dabbed a small amount of rouge on her cheeks to give her some colour. They were almost ready when Master Kingston entered the room but they still had a few final details to see to, so Anne was dismayed when she saw Kingston.
"Am I to go now? I thought..."
"My lady, forgive me." Kingston cut her off. "The executioner has been delayed on the road from Dover and your execution is postponed until twelve o'clock. I wanted to tell you in good time in case..."
"Master Kingston? I hear you say I will not die before noon and I am sorry for it, for I thought to be dead by that time and past my pain."
"Madam, there will be no pain." Kingston was quick to reassure her. "The blow will be so subtle."
"Yes, I heard the executioner was very good." Anne agreed gravely, before letting out an involuntary giggle. "And in any case, I have only a little neck." She was the only one to see the humour of her joke but that didn't keep her from dissolving into half-hysterical laughter.
The room faded around Henry before he had a chance to say a word, Anne's laughter still ringing in his ears, and when it settled again, he could see that she was dressed, a heavy, fur-lined cloak draped about her. He should have known that Anne would be determined that she should look every inch a Queen for her final public appearance, no matter how bleak the circumstances were.
She had had to wait a long time for that title to be hers and, while it might be denied to her now that their marriage had been annulled, nobody could keep her from acting like a Queen now.
She stepped forward as soon as Kingston entered the room. "Master Kingston, I am ready."
"My lady, you must forgive me once again, but the executioner is still not arrived."
"What do you say?" Anne asked, as though she could not believe what she was hearing.
"Madam, your execution is put off until nine o'clock tomorrow morning." Kingston told her.
"No." Anne said softly, with a slight shake of her head. "No, it cannot be. It is not that I desire death, but I... I thought myself prepared to die. I was prepared." She said, beginning to pace, her agitation evident. "I fear... I fear that a further delay, it will weaken my resolve. Please, if it were possible..."
"No, madam." Kingston cut her off. "It is the King's express command."
Anne looked ready to cry but, as Kingston turned to leave, she was seized by a sudden, desperate hope. "No, wait! Perhaps I am not meant to die. These postponements, they mean something. Perhaps the King is testing me. I will be sent to a nunnery." There was a catch in her voice, one that begged Kingston to tell her that she was right, that she might be spared, but she had her answer in the look on his face before he pulled away from her and left, and that answer was one that brought a sob from her lips, despite her efforts to control herself.
The Executioner's gaze never flickered from her face. "It was cruel, don't you think? Leaving her like that, waiting?"
"I'm not the one who was late." Henry countered, determinedly stamping down his feelings of pity for Anne and remorse over what had happened to her in her last days. She was the one who wanted the French executioner, any way. If she had settled for an English executioner – and it wasn't as if the man had botched the job with the men – she would never have had to wait.
For a moment, he wondered if the Executioner would strike him for his words but he didn't. Instead, he turned to Henry, his eyes visible through the slits of the mask, watching him curiously, as though he was studying him, to learn what manner of man he was. "Did you believe her?" He asked, his tone cold. "You heard her confession. Do you believe that she was telling the truth. Do you believe that she was innocent, and that she never betrayed you? Do you believe that you sent an innocent woman to her death, so that you could be free to marry again?"
"This isn't my fault!" Henry insisted, unable to keep himself from saying the words. "I didn't make any allegations about her behaviour and I didn't ask anybody else to. I never told Brandon that he should say a word against her, and I never told Cromwell that he should see to it that she was found guilty, even if there was no truth to the charges against her! They're the ones who are responsible for this! They're the ones you should be bothering! None of this is my fault!"
"Wasn't it?" The Executioner challenged him. "Why did you listen to the allegations? Why didn't you speak to her about it before you ordered an investigation, to see what she had to say? Why did you believe that Brandon was telling the truth, when you knew that he hated her – she told you as much herself, didn't she? – and that Cromwell's investigation would be a fair one. You knew that they both knew that you wanted to be free, and that they both wanted her removed. You let them proceed when you knew this, without investigating for yourself, and that makes you responsible for what happened. Whatever they did, you allowed them to do it."
"I trusted them." Henry protested, his words sounding hollow to his own ears. "They had no reason to want her dead, even if they didn't want her to be my Queen."
"Didn't they?" The Executioner asked, gripping his arm and pulling them out of the scene, through a void of blackness, before they emerged in another room, this time in the palace.
Cromwell's servant bowed to his master before telling him the identity of his guest, although Chapuys followed immediately behind him and Cromwell could see him for himself. "His Excellency the Imperial ambassador." He announced, stepping back so that Chapuys could move forward.
Although he knew that neither man would be able to see or hear him, Henry moved as silently and unobtrusively as he could, standing directly in front of the table, so that he was well-placed to see every expression that might cross their faces as they spoke, and hear every word they said. The Executioner stood by his side, a silent and watchful presence.
Cromwell was never a man who smiled often but Henry could see that the expression on his face was warm and welcoming as he greeted Chapuys, as though he viewed the other man as a friend.
"Your Eminence, you are most welcome. Please be seated." Cromwell indicated a chair.
"You are most gracious, Mr Secretary." Chapuys responded.
Henry noted that he too sounded friendlier than he would have expected. He knew, from letters intercepted before they could be sent on to the Emperor, that Chapuys did not hold a high opinion of Cromwell, believing him to have played a large part in showing Henry the means by which he could set Katherine aside, an action that Chapuys deplored, but even taking into account the need to refrain from openly hostile behaviour, for the sake of diplomacy, Henry would not expect the Imperial ambassador to behave as warmly towards one who had aided Anne in her rise, not when he usually considered everybody connected with her and everybody who supported her an enemy, to himself, to the Emperor and to Katherine's interests.
Cromwell, never a man to waste much time on pleasantries, got down to business straight away. "As I told you, His Majesty is most desirous of making an alliance with the Emperor. I believe also that such an alliance would be greatly to the benefit of this country." He passed a goblet of wine into Chapuys' hand as he spoke, and then took a seat at the table with him.
"I have communicated with the Emperor." Chapuys told him. "He also is eager to find a way to make a new and strong alliance."
Henry snorted in response to this, glancing hastily at both Cromwell and Chapuys, half-afraid that they might have heard him, but they were blind and deaf to his presence.
Chapuys was still speaking. "And to show his good will, I can tell you that he is willing to persuade His Holiness Pope Paul not to publish the sentence of excommunication against the King, which would have deprived him of his throne."
"I don't need the blessing of the Bishop of Rome to rule my kingdom!" Henry exclaimed, incensed, before remembering that they couldn't hear him and would be completely unmoved by his protest. Although the Executioner's face was hidden, Henry suspected that his ghostly guide was rolling his eyes at his words.
Even though Henry knew that Cromwell's focus would be on keeping the meeting amicable, and that his Lord Chancellor would say or do nothing to offend Chapuys if he could avoid doing so, he still felt disgruntled that the man who often proclaimed himself his most loyal servant, the man who had helped to show him that, as King, he was not subject to the Bishop of Rome, whatever His So-called Holiness might think, made no attempt to remind Chapuys that the Bishop of Rome had no power to deprive a sovereign, anointed by God Himself, of his throne.
"I am sure His Majesty would wish to express his immense gratitude to your master." Chapuys inclined his head in response to this – smugly, Henry thought. "And in return?"
"In the circumstances, after the death of his beloved aunt, Queen Katherine of England," Henry felt his hackles rise at Chapuys' use of that title for Katherine. The Emperor might have managed to bully the Bishop of Rome into declaring that his marriage to Katherine was valid – not that it made a difference to things, except to make Katherine even more stubborn about refusing to accept her true place in life as the Dowager Princess of Wales, Arthur's widow, not his wife, and about encouraging Mary to continue to believe herself her father's legitimate child and his sole, rightful heir and to refuse to obey him as she ought to – but Henry expected that Chapuys, as a guest in his court, should respect him enough to use Katherine's proper title as long as he was under the roof of Whitehall Palace and speaking to one of his officials, "the Emperor is prepared to offer the King his support for the continuation of his marriage to Anne Boleyn but on condition that the King declare Princess Mary to be his legitimate heir."
This was not the offer that Cromwell had related to him, or the one that Chapuys had presented to him, when they spoke.
Both had indicated that the Emperor expected that, in return for his friendship and support, Henry should include Mary in the line of succession, but he had not said that he expected her to be named heir to the throne. Henry might have considered, as a gesture of friendship to his new ally and as a gesture of love to the daughter with whom he hoped to reconcile now that Katherine was dead and Mary would be able to acknowledge the truth about her illegitimacy without fearing to cause her mother pain, allowing Mary a place in the line of succession after his legitimate children but he had not imagined that the Emperor would dare to demand that Mary should be placed first in the succession, ahead of any half-siblings born in wedlock – perhaps even ahead of a prince!
If Chapuys had dared to voice such a suggestion in his hearing, he would have cuffed the man and to Hell with the Emperor if he objected to his ambassador being treated in such a manner!
To do him justice, Cromwell seemed to be as taken aback by this unseemly request as Henry was. He was silent for a moment, rising from the table to gather his thoughts before he spoke. "I accept this is, in many ways, a most generous concession on behalf of the Emperor."
"He begs the King to understand it is as far as he is prepared to go." Chapuys insisted, forestalling any attempt that Cromwell might make to negotiate with him about the terms of an alliance.
"I'll certainly put your proposal to His Majesty." Cromwell promised, returning to the table.
"With your approval?" Chapuys asked pointedly.
"Even with my approval, Excellency, this may not be easy." Cromwell remarked.
"What does he mean by demanding that I should make Lady Mary my...?" Henry began, but the Executioner lifted a hand to silence him
"There's more." He said in his stony voice, reaching out to grip Henry by the arm.
The air around Henry shifted, and when he recovered his bearings, he and the Executioner were back in Cromwell's study, but he could sense that it was a different day now.
Once again, Chapuys was announced by a servant and ushered in to sit in front of Cromwell.
"Excellency." If Cromwell was surprised by this visit, he hid it well.
"I wondered if you had put the Emperor's proposals to the king." Chapuys asked at once.
"Not exactly." Cromwell confessed, leaning forward and steepling his fingers, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I wish with all my heart that we could reach a speedy accommodation. However, in the question of legitimising the Lady Mary, there remains one great obstacle."
"You mean the queen. I know she hates the Emperor, as Katherine's nephew. They say that when she was told of his victory over the Turks, she looked like a dog being thrown out of a window."
Henry thought that, if Anne hated the Emperor, she had just cause for that; but for his intercession on Katherine's behalf, they would have been married years earlier, and he couldn't help but think that this might have made a huge difference to their lives. Perhaps they would have a prince in the nursery now, or more than one, bright, healthy boys who teased their sister, excelled at their lessons and at sport and who would make fine heirs for their father one day, boys that any monarch could be proud to point to as the Princes of his realm.
They might have been happier together than they were.
The feeling of regret was more acute and more painful than Henry could have imagined.
"But what can we do?" Chapuys asked briskly.
Cromwell's voice was calm but determined as he answered. "If there is an obstacle in our path, Excellency, we must find a way around it."
"And it was not long after that that he conducted the investigation against her, was it." The Executioner's words were as hard and cold as ever, without a trace of sympathy or even anger.
It wasn't a question, so Henry didn't answer.
"She carried your child then." The Executioner remarked. "It made no difference to them."
Henry's stomach churned as his mind was flooded with thoughts of what might have happened, if Anne had not miscarried their son, if he had not gone to Cromwell to tell him that he believed their marriage to be invalid. The last thing that Chapuys would have wanted was for him to have a son with Anne, as he must know that, once Henry's marriage could boast healthy male issue, there would be very few men in England who would be foolish enough to support the pretended claims of the Lady Mary. Cromwell would have known that Henry would never listen to any allegations of infidelity on Anne's part when she carried his son; he would have been the one punished for daring to slander the mother of the prince, and he would have paid for that slander with his life.
Were they thinking of poisoning her, those two men who sat there, discussing Anne so coldly? Was it their intention to ensure that she never had a chance to give him a son, as they knew that a son would provide Anne with protection that they could not breach, either by manufacturing false allegations against her or by pressing the Emperor to go back on his word about supporting Henry's marriage to her, the better to see the Lady Mary reinstated as heir to the throne?
Cromwell had made it clear that he believed that an alliance with the Emperor was in England's best interests but had he wanted that alliance badly enough to murder Anne for the sake of it?
"What do you think?" The Executioner asked, as though Henry had spoken his questions aloud. "He's a ruthless man, Mr. Cromwell – though, to do him justice, he has not been planning this as long as somebody else I could name, somebody who wanted her dead for a long time before he saw it done." Without another word, he took Henry's arm again, and pulled him to another scene.
Brandon held a rosary in his hand, which was the first thing that Henry noted as odd. His friend was not usually a man who spent much time on prayer. He was sitting on a chair, a troubled expression on his face as he stared in front of him, and that was how his wife found him when she entered the room and sat down next to him, looking concerned.
"What's wrong, husband?"
"I'm going to have to attend on the King and that bitch of his at her coronation." Brandon complained. The vehemence of his words and the anger in his tone surprised Henry; he knew that Brandon did not like Anne, even in those days, but he would not have expected such naked hatred, nor could he imagine what Anne had done to earn such enmity, especially when there was a time when relations between Brandon and Anne's relatives had seemed quite cordial. "What did Wolsey used to call her? The Black Crow."
"Can you not plead some indisposition?" Catherine Brandon suggested.
"I could," Brandon allowed, "even though the King has made me High Constable for the day. But if I did, His Majesty would remove my head and then I should be genuinely indisposed."
"Very well." Catherine agreed. "So keep your head. It's a pretty head, in any case, and I don't want to lose it either." She kissed him on the temple before moving to sit directly opposite him, a determined expression on her face as she counselled her husband. "But store up your knowledge and your anger. Don't act impulsively, it's always a mistake. But one day, with others so disposed, use them both, and if you can, bring her down and destroy her."
Brandon's nod was almost imperceptible, but Henry could see it, as could the Executioner.
"'Bring her down and destroy her'," the Executioner quoted. "Did you suspect that their feelings against her were so strong at the time?"
"Of course not!" Henry exclaimed at once. "I would have dealt with them if I knew." He might not have sent Brandon to the scaffold, their friendship was strong enough to ensure that he wouldn't have made his friend pay with his life for his hatred of Anne, even when his love for her was at its height, but he would definitely have banished Brandon from court, and refused to allow him to enjoy any position of influence, for fear that his hatred of Anne would impact the way he performed his duties and that instead of helping to bolster her position, he would work against her.
"Do you still believe that he did not want to see her dead? Do you believe that he would have kept silent if he believed her to be innocent?" The Executioner asked. Henry shook his head mutely. "Good." The Executioner told him, a hint of approval entering his tone for the first time. "That's a start. There is one more thing that you need to see, and then I will explain the offer."
Henry knew what he would have to watch next and his heart sank. He had known from the moment when the Executioner first started to bring him to the past that it was inevitable that this moment would come, sooner or later, but that did not make the prospect of what he was about to witness any more palatable. He closed his eyes as the world around him began to shift and it was with great reluctance that he opened them again once the world settled, knowing what he would see when he did, knowing that it was a sight that would haunt him until the end of his days.
Anne was ready when Kingston arrived but she didn't turn around when she heard his approaching footsteps, though her maids curtseyed at his entrance. She stayed as she was for a moment, facing the mirror that was held out before her, so that she could see how she looked, and she didn't turn around to face Kingston until he addressed her.
"Madam, the hour approaches and you must make ready." He told her.
"Acquit yourself of your charge, for I have been long prepared." Anne's words were calm.
Henry could not suppress a gasp at the sight of her face. He had expected that her eyes would be red-rimmed with tears, and that her face would be pink and puffy after hours of crying, given the state she was in when he last saw her, the second time her execution was postponed, but Anne's face bore no trace of weeping or of distress. She looked serene, ready to face her fate, and her dignity was absolute. Although she was dressed more simply than he was accustomed, with fewer jewels and no tiara or coronet to signify her status as Queen, he thought she had never looked more beautiful, so much so that it hurt to look at her, hurt to know what he was about to lose.
Even Kingston seemed struck by her appearance, and it was a moment before he could speak again, holding out a tightly rolled purse to her. "The King asks that you take this purse." He explained to her. It has twenty pounds in it, to pay the headsman for his services and to deliver alms to the poor."
Anne accepted the purse with a quiet "Thank you."
"Will you and your ladies follow me?" Kingston asked, waiting for her answering nod before leading the way from the room and leaving Anne and her attendants to arrange themselves in formation, her almoner preceding her and her maids following.
Henry pulled away from the Executioner and walked by Anne's side, but she didn't know that he was there. He was surprised when, as they neared the door that would lead them out to the Tower Green, where the scaffold had been erected, he could hear derogatory shouts from the crowd who were waiting to see Anne die, and even more surprised when his reaction to those cries was one of anger and indignation. He wanted to be able to speak out, to tell them that the woman they were deriding was guiltless of the crimes she was accused of, and that she would never have been brought to this state if not for the lies of her enemies, who were willing to destroy her, by any means necessary... and if not for the fact that her husband wanted to replace her with another.
He felt absurdly proud of Anne for the way she ignored the cries against her, not allowing herself to falter, and he was pleased to see that some of the people blessed her instead of cursing her.
Anne hesitated only a moment at the foot of the steps leading to the scaffold before gathering her courage and mounting them, each step bringing her nearer to her death. Some people had to be dragged to the scaffold, even men, seasoned warriors who were thought brave, but Anne let her own feet carry her there, unwilling to allow the last sight of her to be of guards carrying her up to the scaffold, kicking and screaming, or for her last moments to be tainted by cowardice.
On the scaffold, a second executioner awaited her, the twin of Henry's guide.
Her voice was steady as she addressed Kingston. "Master Kingston, I pray you not to give the signal for my death until I have spoken what I have a mind to speak."
It was the right of every prisoner condemned to death to speak before the axe – or, in this case, the sword – fell, so Kingston nodded agreement. "Ma'am."
Satisfied that she would be allowed to speak, unhindered, Anne faced the crowd. Standing beside her, Henry could see Cranmer in the crowd, there to lend her what support he could, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Wyatt huddled by the wall, grief-stricken at the prospect of witnessing Anne's bloody end but unwilling to allow her to face it alone. He had loved her.
"Good Christian people," Anne began, a little more loudly than normal, so that her words could be heard over the murmurings of the crowd. As she spoke, they stilled, as though by magic, remaining silent so that she could say what she had to say. "I have come here to die according to the law, and thus yield myself to the will of the King, my lord." There were a few shouts of 'Long live the King!' in response to this before silence fell again, allowing Anne to continue. "And if, in my life, I ever did offend the King's Grace, then surely with my death, I do now atone. I pray, and beseech you all to pray for the life of the King, my sovereign lord and yours, who is one of the best princes on the face of the Earth, who has always treated me so well, wherefore I submit to death with a goodwill, humbly asking pardon of all the world. If anyone should take up my case, I ask them only to judge it kindly."
At Anne's nod, her three maids, all of them weeping softly, stepped forward to help her take off her heavy cloak, her necklace and cover her long hair with a simple coif, so that the executioner would be able to make his sword blow without any hindrance. Anne removed her earrings herself, passing them into the hand of one of the maids as she thanked them.
The executioner stepped forward, kneeling at her feet, as custom demanded. "Madame, forgive me for what I must do." He asked her, his accent strong and his voice gentler by far than the voice Henry had become accustomed to hearing from the Executioner who stood by his side.
"Gladly." Anne assured him, passing the purse to him. "And here is your purse." The executioner stepped back to allow her to say her final words. "Thus I take my leave of the world, and of you." Anne told the crowd. "And I heartily desire you all to pray for me."
Henry hoped that she could take some comfort from the number of people who pledged to pray for her, all calling for mercy for her soul.
As Anne knelt, and her almoner began to read from the Psalms, Henry shut his eyes, knowing what was about to happen, knowing that he couldn't keep it from happening and not wanting to watch. It was bad enough for him to know that he had allowed an innocent person, a woman he once loved beyond all others, to be executed. He didn't want to see the deed done.
"No!" The Executioner's voice was fierce, filled with fury for the first time since he came and, when he laid his cold, heavy hand on Henry's shoulder, Henry's eyelids became transparent, leaving him able to see what was happening as clearly as if his eyes were wide open. "You ordered this done and you will watch it. You will watch every detail of it." He ground out the words angrily.
Left with no alternative, no way of shutting out the sight before him, Henry watched as Anne knelt down, praying, watched as, one by one, the crowds fell to their knees in front of her, with Brandon as the last to kneel. His own knees twitched and, if not for the Executioner's iron grip of his shoulder, he too would have fallen to his knees.
When Anne's head was struck from her body, he opened his mouth to let out a wordless cry, and the world faded to black around him, only this time, they did not emerge in another scene, nor did they return to his bedchamber. It was just him and the Executioner, standing in a void.
Was this Purgatory?
Was their next stop to be Hell, so that Henry might have a foretaste of what awaited him once he died, the price he would have to pay for what he had allowed happen to Anne?
He felt moisture on his cheek and, when he touched the skin, he could feel tears streaking down his face. "Why did you show me all of this?" He demanded of the Executioner. "What was the point? It's in the past, and I can't change that."
"Yes, you can." The Executioner contradicted him. "That's why I'm here, to offer you a choice. If you choose, I can turn back time, to before any of this happens. You can choose to save her or you can do nothing, and let her die. However," he lifted a hand before Henry could declare that he wanted to accept the offer, if he could bring Anne back. "There is a price that you will have to pay in return for my help; if you save her, you must keep her as your Queen, for the rest of your lives. Are you willing to sacrifice the life you have now in order to save her?" Through the slits of the mask, the eyes that met Henry's were so dark that they looked liquid, but there was no emotion in his voice as he spelled out the details of his offer, no hint about which course of action he expected or wanted Henry to take.
Henry was too stunned to speak, not knowing what it was he wanted, what he should say. He was sorry now that he had let Anne die but how could he bring her back, if that was the price? How could he give up the freedom to marry Jane, how could he give up the happiness she had brought him, his reconciliation with Mary and the son he would soon have?
If the Executioner could hear what he was thinking, he ignored it. "The choice is yours."
TBC.