Inside the confines of the carriage, Catherine sat opposite of her husband the King. She was annoyed with herself. I should have been able to convince the King; she pondered whether or not Henry would be angry if she broached the subject again.
Her eyes travelled to the boy-child who sat without fidgeting in his finery on the seat beside his…father.
There is no denying it, she thought. The boy bears his Sire's stamp. He sat still and compliant in the swaying dark carriage, even when he should have been in his nursery and abed.
"Henry," she said in her softly accented voice, and she smiled as both the child and the King focused on her as she voiced their name. She sat forward with the rustle of fine fabrics to lay a soft be-ringed hand on the King's knee. "Will you not reconsider your decision?"
She waited for the explosion and saw the boy edge slightly away from the King. But King Henry VIII held his temper and smiled. It was his old smile, the brilliant one that had fired her blood when they had first wed. The sight of it warmed her heart, but he said, "I will not my Lady, in this matter I have made all the concessions that I will."
He glanced at the child at his side and the tousled blond head rose to look clear-eyed into the King's face, a tremulous smile playing about the young lips.
Catherine was surprised when the King lifted the child onto his lap, resting his hands on the slender shoulders and regarding her seriously from over the blond gossamer curls.
"It is a hard world Catherine, and an even harder task to hold the throne. Pray heaven, that we have our own, living son, but should we not…this boy is my proof against the future. He must be taught Catherine; in your heart you know this."
"Then if he must attend, My Lord, will you not allow him to stay among the women?" she dared greatly, she knew.
There was a more formal note in the King's voice when he responded. "Catherine, it…pleases us that you are so solicitous of our bastard, but the boy will stand at our side."
The King turned his attention to the child. "Do you know where we are going, Henry?" he asked.
"Yes father," the child twisted his head around to regard the King. "We are going to watch an ex-ex-o-cut-ion." The boy said carefully.
"And are you frightened child?" Catherine asked gently.
The boy's gaze was guileless, "No Your Majesty, Nurse said that the King would keep me by him and that I shouldn't be afraid."
"You see," the King said, "the boy's lineage shows true, even now."
Catherine wisely held her tongue, nodding her head demurely and then turning to look out of the carriage. After a few minutes the rumbling of the crowd could be heard in the night air.
Adrienna watched as the executioner emerged from the barred door of the gaol. He was a heavy man, with huge strong arms. She suspected he was a blacksmith, beneath the hood that supposedly protected his identity. He mounted the stairs and conducted a brief inspection of the platform on which the block for the executions had been mounted. She could smell his sweat and hear the ponderous beating of his heart as it pumped his blood through his body. There was no anxiety or fear in his scent, just the trace of excitement elicited by the shouts and cat-calls from the crowd.
At that moment every head, including the vampire's, turned towards the Royal carriage as it arrived beside the dais where the Magistrate and the priest already waited. The crowd grew silent as they watched first the courtiers and then the Queen's Ladies ascend the steps to the dais. They broke out into a wild cheering as the Queen herself appeared, mounting the steps sedately to stand overlooking the square and waiting for her husband HenryVIII.
The square was torch lit and large bonfires burned at either end of the open area. The flickering light, danced on the jewels and fine fabrics of the court.
Fine Ladies one and all, Adrienna thought. There is the same avarice in these high born faces, the same excitement at the witnessing of death as there is in the common faces of the crowd. That is except for the face of the Queen. The vampire watched as Catherine stood in front of her chair and she could see the sorrow and pity in the Spanish Queen's face. She watched as the Queen's lips moved soundlessly as one by one the beads of her rosary slipped through her fingers. Adrienna wondered, does she pray for the souls of the condemned?
The noise of the crowd hushed as the King exited the carriage and then rose to a cacophony as he turned to hand a small blond boy of perhaps six, out of the carriage.
So here is the Bastard Prince, Duke of Richmond, Earl of Somerset, a slender set of little shoulders to bear the weight of such titles. She thought.
The King set the boy in front of him on the stairs and kept his hand on the boy's shoulder as they mounted the steps and the crowd began to chant and cheer the name of the King. A few steps from the top the king caught the boy up in his arms, and mounting the last few steps, turned to face the cheering crowd with a broad white smile.
Henry settled into his throne-like chair, setting the boy on his knee. Catherine sat at his right and then finally the rest of the courtiers and officials in attendance seated themselves.
The door of the goal banged open, close at hand to where Adrienna was standing. First the guards emerged and then the three prisoners were dragged out, before the jeering crowd. They were clad in sack cloth and tethered together with heavy chains.
The air was full of all manner of invectives and insults, the townspeople waving their arms and shouting out cruel and ugly sentiments.
The Scots were bearded and filthy, covered with the wounds and burns of their torture, and they were to a man, terrified. Adrianna could smell their terror and her beast struggled and roared within. I hunger, I hunger…
She reached between the folds of her skirt to remove a large silver crucifix. She then stepped forward; showing the cross to the guard and when she spoke it was in an undertone. Her voice carried the power of a tightly reined and focused compulsion.
The Guard nodded in response to her request and she approached the prisoners in turn, speaking briefly to each and holding the cross to their bruised and battered lips. Then she stepped quickly aside and the prisoners were dragged forward and manhandled quickly up the steps to the platform and the waiting block.
Sinking back into the crowd, Adrienna wondered how long her compulsion would hold. 'There is no fear, there is no pain. The Lord God waits, to welcome you all home. Believe me.' Would it hold until the axe rose above them? Would it hold until life fled as the rich, red scent of their blood filled the night air?
She had done what she had come for, now she needed only to ride out the storm of the crowd's violent energy and when the humans dispersed, then she would hunt.
His father lifted him from the steps to swing him high into the air. He had a dizzying view of the sea of people below him in the dark and then he felt the King settle him on his knee.
It is so dark and terribly noisy. There are so many angry people below. Their faces were mean and hungry and they were shouting so many things.
He felt a soft touch on his sleeve and he looked into the beautiful compassionate eyes of the Queen. "Be brave, little one," she said, "God and his angels will protect you."
Be brave. Be brave that was what Martin said when I visited the stable this afternoon. Martin's face had been sad though. I don't like it when Martin is sad, but I remember what he said. 'These men that will be put to death tonight, Master Curly Top, these men threatened the safety of the Crown and they must be punished.' Well I know what it is like to be punished; I get punished when I do poorly at my lessons or when I hide from Nurse or when I broke that…
He felt his father shift beneath him, and he followed the King's gaze. A loud roar like the sound of a giant beast went up and the child wanted to clap his small hands over his ears. He did not. He could see the large and dirty men in chains being led out a little door. He saw an old woman, wrapped in a shawl, step out of the crowd to speak to one of the guards who nodded at her words. Then she stepped up to each of the bad men in turn. She spoke to each of them and held up a silver cross for them to kiss. The child twisted his gaze around just in time to see the Queen bring the cross at the end of her rosary to her lips. When she saw the child watching her, she smiled gently and reached out to touch him again.
When the bad men were all standing on the top of the platform, there was a man with a long grey beard who stood and read out a long speech; the child didn't understand it all, but he knew the greybeard was talking about the bad men. The crowd shuffled and stilled, the tops of their heads undulating like the surface of the water and the voice of the mob rose and fell in response to the speech. Then the King stood, the child could feel his father's sudden tenseness, and he looked up from where the King had set him at his right side.
His father remained watching the men, but he said to the boy, "This is the King's Justice, Henry…the cost of rule. Watch now and learn."
The sword-callused hand of the King moved to the tender neck, cupping his fingers beneath the golden curls and holding the child in place. "Watch and learn, child," he said.
From behind her, Adrienna heard the axe whistle as it sliced the air on its upward arc and then the solid wet thunk as the blade found its purchase in the block, cleaving flesh and bone alike. The warm, nourishing scent of blood rose, filling the night air; she curled her hands into fists in the folds of her skirt.
The crowd around her roared out a climax of dark passion similar to that of a lover. Her eyes darkened at the flood of emotion and the overwhelming scents that rode on the breeze. But those black eyes were focused only on the tiny cherubic figure that stood rigidly, woodenly at his father, the King's, side. She saw the tears start in the huge blue eyes, and the tiny hand pressed to the soft lips that had formed a perfect "O" of surprise.
She could see the King, holding the boy in place, as she heard behind her the sound of the second man being forced to his knees, the sickly hushed silence of the crowd's expectation, and then the whistle of the axe. She watched the child stiffen and then gasp as the axe fell, the tears flowing freely down the smooth young cheeks. Yet he made no sound, and he watched as he was commanded.
The torches bent and twisted in the buffeting breeze, casting moving shadows against the buildings and across the faces, the murderous faces of the crowd. They were roaring out their glee and their bloodlust as the head rolled and human blood painted the floor of the platform.
By the time the axe had fallen for the third time the child's narrow chest was heaving, his face ashen and his tiny fist was blocking the horrified cry that Adrienna knew was behind it. At last the King loosened his punishing grip on the child's neck and turned the Princeling gently towards his thigh. The King stood at ease and now his large hand rubbed circles on the child's back as he stood with his face pressed against his father's leg, his slim frame wracked by silent sobs.
Adrienna looked towards the Queen whose face was like a thundercloud, dark with a burden of anger and sorrow. Then she looked once more to the King whose face was both sad and proud as he gazed down at his bastard.
A drunken merchant in rumpled and rich clothing, with a blousy whore on his arm, jostled past the vampire. She followed his progress with an inscrutable ebony gaze as she heard him say, "Let's find a dark and private place my dear, beheadings always make me hungry for the warm flesh of a woman." He grasped the whore's breast, eliciting a throaty giggle as she led him away to the edge of the crowd.
The vampire hunted, following at a discreet distance. She would feed tonight, deeply, for the bloodlust was on her, and the haunting tears of the child's wide blue eyes, drove her to fury.
She followed and she thought, yes, let's find a dark and private place…