9

The Death of the King

1547

"The King is dead! Long live the King! The King is dead! Long live the King!"

Groggily, I pulled myself from the warm, pleasantly fuzzy and comforting land of dreams, and realised the crowds surrounding the palace were shouting – something had stirred them up.

Blinking the golden grains of sleep from my eyes, I got up, pulled a robe around my shoulders, crossed to the window, and threw open the slatted shutters, pushing aside the thick sheet of glass as well. Leaning out, I tossed my golden hair, letting it ripple out behind me in the breeze, as I breathed in deeply.

"The King is dead! Long live the King!"

I stumbled back, reeling. My mind was whirring, my mind spinning, refusing to take in what I was hearing. It was not true! It could not be true!

"The King is dead! Long live the King!"

"Edward! Edward!" I called for my husband passionately. He came in at a run, and saw my face.

He knew. He too had heard the shouts of the crowd. He knew, but he had no comfort to offer me. In an instant, his arms came round me, and I clung to him, unable to comprehend what had happened to me, to my father, to England.

My lips moved automatically, reciting the psalm "The Lord is my Shepherd" in a constant, fervent, yet utterly silent prayer, as I struggled to pull myself together.

"If I complete the psalm faultlessly ten times in a row, then this will not have happened. It will just be a horrible nightmare that I'll wake up from in a moment." I promised myself childishly.

That promise though, however childish it may have been, was the only thing that gave me the courage I needed to get dressed and start my day. Swiping away the tears that came to my eyes, I pulled away from Edward and selected a black velvet dress, which was edged with daffodil yellow ribbon, and embroidered in silver thread, before heading for Princess Anne's rooms, avoiding anyone who really knew me, for I needed the solitude, so that I could begin to put my thoughts in order.

It was all for naught anyhow.

As soon as I got to Anne's rooms, there was a message delivered from the Queen, stating that all the royal children, and their attendants, were to come to her rooms at once.

Anne grumbled a little, for she was hardly looking her best, and declared that she would be changed into her gown of dark blue silk velvet shot through with gold before she went anywhere. As her governess. and in charge of such things, I would normally have argued, and perhaps I ought to have done, but I correctly surmised that it would be quicker to agree to her demand, rather than to fight her and risk being late, because of one of her tantrums, and began to undress her, as I felt a large, bitter lump of foreboding lodge itself firmly at the base of my throat.

****

We stood along the wall of Her Majesty's Privy Chamber, unanimously shocked by the sudden, abrupt summons, and puzzled as to the cause of it.

Suddenly, the great doors were flung open, and Her Majesty entered, her face set in lines of resignation and grim determination. Behind her came her uncle, her brother and Sir Anthony Denny, all looking grave.

"Queen Anne. Majesty." We muttered a greeting, dropping into bows and curtsies, following the lead of the Princes and Princesses, who all seemed to realise how serious the situation was, even little Anne, who would normally have greeted her mother with a warm, fierce embrace, even before the Court, but Queen Anne waved those courtesies away distractedly, as she held her head high, refusing to crumple into distress.

"I regret to tell you, my friends, that His Majesty has died. Henry Tudor will never lead England again."

Somewhere to my left, I heard a choked, disbelieving strangled cry. It tore at my heartstrings, even as I felt them break.

Princess Anne flung herself at her mother, sobbing her heart out. Elizabeth took George in her arms, trying to comfort him, even as, in her turn, she was longing for someone to comfort her, to tell her everything was going to be all right. Her younger brother, Edward, who was now our King, held his future wife, Margot, awkwardly in his arms, whilst he himself was embraced by George Boleyn, his beloved uncle.

I sank to my knees, unable to stop the tears coming.

Henry Tudor's love for me had gone sour, I knew, and he'd forced my mother and I to live apart, unable to exchange even a note. My mother had died of a broken heart and ill health because of the strain he put her under, and he hadn't even visited her on her deathbed. All because of the whore who now rocked her child, oh, so tenderly!

Yet despite everything, despite all the pain and humiliation he had brought me and caused me, despite all of that, he was the only father I had ever known, and because of that, he would forever hold that special place in my heart.

I wept at last, wept until I had nothing left to cry with. I wept for my father, my mother, and my past as a Princess. I wept for all the motherless and fatherless children in the world, for England's unsteady future with two child monarchs, for all the children who had been forced to mature far faster than they ought to, be it through war, loss or great responsibilities.

Finally, I dried my tears as best I could on a scrap of linen I had in my pocket, and rose, still shaky on my feet, to face the Queen once more.

I made my way over to her, gathering my courage.

"What, Lady Mary?" Queen Anne snapped, glancing at me with eyes dark with hate, rage and grief.

Clenching my jaw in order to remain civil, I simply asked "How, Your Majesty? How did he die?"

For a moment, I thought she had not heard, or if she had, that she was not going to bother answering, but then she glanced up at me, and something astonishingly close to pity crept into her expression. Perhaps she remembered that the King had been my father too.

In any event, she hissed shortly "Blood poisoning", and made as if to turn away.

"The leeches -" I burst out in surprise before I could stop myself saying anything more. "Couldn't you have -?"

Anne sighed "We tried, Lady Mary, we tried. We were simply too late. I sat with him, you know. He mentioned you."

"Really? He did?"

Anne Boleyn nodded sourly, glaring at me.

"£5000 of his money is for you. You, his bastard. Is he not gracious?"

"He is." I agreed politely, before saying "Thank you, Your Grace." curtseying, and moving away to give the Queen Dowager and her youngest daughter at least the illusion of privacy.

****

Of course, whenever a King dies, there has to be a new king in his place, and in this case, that was Edward. He was twelve then, and could by English law, legally get married. However, his bride, Margot, who was a year younger than him, was a different matter, and the cause of a violent argument between the Queen Dowager, and her sister, Mary Stafford.

Kitty Howard nee Percy and I, coming in from a brisk, bracing ride a few weeks after my father's funeral, froze at the sound of Anne Boleyn's shrill voice clearly emanating from her private rooms.

"We have to marry them! They have to be crowned together! We can't allow a Princess to rule with a King!"

"Anne, it's impossible. Margot's eleven. By papal law, she cannot consummate the marriage, nor can it take place until she is at least twelve. At least!"

That was Mary, the Queen Dowager's sister, and as usual, her voice of reason. However, as she always did, Anne was getting riled, and flaring up beneath the cool logic.

"Then it's a damn good thing England no longer answers to the Pope, isn't it?"

"Anne, be reasonable..."

"Reasonable! Reasonable! My husband is dead, my son's throne is at stake, and you ask me to be reasonable? Really, Marianne, sometimes I wonder if you're entirely sane."

"I'm perfectly sane; it's you who need to check your sanity, Anne." Mary replied calmly, staring her sister in the eye.

"That's not what Henry Percy thinks." Anne retorted sharply. Her sister gasped.

"Henry Percy! Henry Percy! My God, Anne, I've only just realised; you don't want what's best for England – you want him!"

The Queen Dowager fell silent, and in my mind, I saw her turn and stride away from her sister in exasperation. Then she spoke again, this time so quietly that I had to strain to hear her.

"More than you can imagine, Marianne. I want him more than you could ever imagine."

"Then I leave you to your own devices, sister. If you're going to be like this, I cannot help you, though God knows I want to."

Mary Stafford nee Boleyn flung open the door of her sister's Privy Chamber, and made to leave. Everyone in the room, including Kitty and myself, instantly pretended to be doing something else. Anne caught her by the shoulder. Eyes flashing, she hissed "You would not dare. You would not dare, Mary. Remember, as I do, that we are Boleyns and Howards together. If you are not on my side, then I am not on yours, and you can rot in Hell, for all I care!"

Mary Boleyn shook her sister off angrily.

"Oh for God's sake, Anne! I can't be bothered to argue any more. Go to him and have him if you want him, but don't force Edward and Marguerite into this marriage just yet. It's pointless – they can't even consummate it!"

Anne dug her fingers back into her sister's shoulders, making Mary gasp with pain. "Hear this, Mary. I will do both. I will do both!"

Having sworn fiercely that she would see her plan through, Anne Boleyn released her sister, and swept out of the room, forcing us to clear a path for her, bowing and curtseying as she passed us.

****

The Queen did indeed get her way.

A month later, in early April, the Court, having observed a month of official mourning for the passing of the King, watched as Edward and Marguerite took each other as husband and wife, solemnly repeating the required vows in clear, firm, audible voices that denied the youth that still shone in those healthy, glowing, robust cheeks of theirs, and their dark sharp eyes that never missed a trick.

The ceremony outshone any other ever performed in England, save for Anne Boleyn's own coronation, of course, and the children revelled in it, particularly Marguerite. She was hailed as one of the most beautiful Princesses in Christendom, and didn't she know it?

Although I was still in name Princess Anne's governess, and as such, had to spend a lot of time serving her, secretly I preferred to serve Margot, which I did quite a bit, Thank Goodness, partly because she spent a lot of time with Anne and Elizabeth, and partly because she viewed Katherine Neville nee Carey and myself as her favourite English maids.

****

I went to bed on Edward and Marguerite's wedding night perfectly content, and fell asleep almost at once, never dreaming of the shocks that were to come.

AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Right, now I have a question. Has anyone got any ideas on how Princess Anne can misbehave, misbehave so badly that Mary Boleyn has to take her away from Court and let her live at Hever for a while? The thing is, now that her father's dead, the main good example in Princess Anne's life has gone, and Anne Boleyn is consoling herself by spoiling her child shamelessly, so she's becoming even more impossible. I want to do an entire chapter on this, so I need a couple of good ideas. Please tell me if you have any in your review or via a PM. Thanks!