A/N: Sorry about the delayed update - I got home from work last night and just conked out! So - again, thank you for the reviews, and thank you everyone who's reading along. I really appreciate your support.

Elizabeth's progress has come to a successful close, and they're home again - but Mary's naïveté is showing again, and her belief that the time has come means that she thinks that she's in a position to get her challenge off the ground...

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Alliances

Anne sits back in her chair and sighs with relief. Today has been a long haul in the saddle, drenched in heavy showers of rain that were well separated, but great deluges when they were present. Even so, people have come out to see their Queen Bess, and it has been difficult to ensure that she is visible, and protected from the wet - particularly as Elizabeth was not at all happy to be hidden behind the thick leather curtains required to keep the rain out of her litter.

Even now, she is astonished at how well received Elizabeth has been by her subjects. While some have looked upon her with hostility, her daughter has been welcomed by all, and her new pet-name of 'Hal's little Queen Bess' seems to have settled into the hearts of her people, shutting out all thought of Katherine's bastard brat.

Now that she is here, seated in the chambers that once housed her late husband, Anne chides herself for her uncharitable thoughts. The child is hardly to blame for her mother's unchaste marriage, after all - and yet…

I recognise no queen but my mother; but if the King's…mistress…would intercede with the King on my behalf, then I would be grateful…

Again, she tenses in rage at the insult - and that pert manner in which it was so coldly delivered. An intransigent girl who would not accept that the world is not what she wishes it to be. Her mother's marriage was invalid - a marriage to her late husband's brother - and no number of convenient dispensations change that. He that marrieth his brother's wife, doth an unlawful thing, he hath uncovered his brother's nakedness: they shall be without children.

And so it was - for no son survived their couplings, and thus God turned his back upon their unclean union. An unlawful marriage cannot stand above a lawful one, and Elizabeth is the true and lawful daughter of a true and lawful marriage. Mary has no claim to the throne, and her wish to do so is an affront to God, and to the right and proper governance of the Realm.

Why can she not stop this? Mary has become a dark nemesis that haunts her night and day - and the wretched girl has done nothing but send and receive letters. Perhaps she should attempt to set aside her enmity and extend a hand of friendship. If the girl rejects that offer, then at least she can claim that she tried.

God's wounds - even now she cannot keep the creature out of her mind. Irked, she rises from her chair and crosses to the muselar, seating herself and launching into a soothing pavane. The music has just the degree of intricacy to demand her concentration, but not so much that it contributes to her tension.

By the time she has finished, Margery and Nan have returned from the laundry, where they have been supervising the transfer of her linens from the baggage carts. They are chattering brightly, and she smiles to herself. For a moment, it is as though she is living a year in the past - music, laughter…a marriage to a great King, and a beautiful daughter for him to cherish…

But she is not. Rousing herself, she rises from the seat at the muselar and turns to her ladies, "I think I shall wear the Tawny silk today."

They curtsey and hurry through to her dressing chamber to fetch out the overgown that she requires. Elizabeth might be free to sup in private, but Anne most certainly is not. A scant three hours after their return to Whitehall, and it is time for a multitude of hungry courtiers to be fed. Already her mind is upon the evening to come - she must ensure that she is thoroughly chaperoned, as her unwanted amour shall be in the gallery again, playing his lute and that new instrument from Cremona that he imported at such ludicrous expense. Doubtless he shall be dressed in unwarranted finery again, for he is still paid the wages that Henry granted him as one of his Gentlemen of the Privy Chamber. Most do not realise just how much he is paid - no wonder people question his over-done wardrobe.

"Majesty?"

She raises her head to see one of her junior ushers in the doorway, "What is it, Michael?"

"The Lord Treasurer is without, and seeks an audience."

She nods, "Show him in."

There is no need for Cromwell to advise her of Mary's latest affront - for he advised her of that while they were still at Donnington. What she is keen to know now is whether she has accepted her father's offer to betray his own daughter, and how that shall affect what she does next.

"Well?" she asks, almost before he has accepted her offer to be seated.

"I have no word upon that matter, Majesty." Cromwell advises, calmly, "I have spent much of this morning engaged with Mr Wriothesley and my Lord of Southampton, for a number of letters have been received from our neighbouring princes. I think you shall be pleased at their sentiments."

He holds out a leather portfolio, and she takes it with interest. Within, as promised, is a collection of letters from the major European courts. Set in carefully diplomatic terms, each correspondent sends their congratulations to the Queen Elizabeth upon her accession, and offers friendship to the Queen Regent. Even that wily fox Charles has set down in writing his intention to ignore the squealings of his irrelevant cousin - abandoning her to whatever fate God has set down for her. Immediately, she is pleased.

"Is it worth letting this news be conveyed to the girl?" she asks, attempting to conceal her pleasure.

"I think it likely that she shall already have begun to suspect that the Emperor does not see her claim as being worthy of his support, Majesty." Cromwell does not sound so gleeful at the outcome, "Chapuys has yet to respond to her last letter, despite his former friendship while she was kept from her mother. While it is likely that she shall blame the slowness of her communication channels, she cannot do so for much longer."

"Then keep watch for any note that he might attempt to send to her. He has always favoured the girl, and I cannot believe that he shall not confess his betrayal at some point."

He nods, but does not comment.

"What?" she asks, at once, "do you pity the creature?"

Cromwell looks at her, his eyes sad, "Do you not, Majesty?"

At first, she is tempted to snap a retort at him, but then sighs, "God forgive me. I cannot find it in my heart to pity a motherless girl who has lost all that she once had. But she is my Elizabeth's most implacable and dangerous enemy - and while she remains so, I cannot look upon her in any other fashion."

"And if that situation were to change?"

"In what way?" Anne asks, crossly, "She has never accepted the truth; to her, the Princess Dowager was a queen, and I was naught but a mistress. She shall never amend that view - and you know that to be so."

"I agree that she shall always see her mother in a saintly light - for her mother is no longer alive, and it is in our nature to forget the faults of the departed whom we loved - but should she attempt to raise England against Elizabeth, and finds that England shall not hear her; what shall she do?"

"She shall accept whichever husband I see fit to give her, and remove herself to some country backwater where she can never cause mischief again."

"There is no man in England who is of equal rank to her, Majesty - you know that to be so. She is the daughter of a King, and the granddaughter of Kings. To marry her off to a noble of insufficient rank shall be seen as an insult not only by her, but also by the princes of Europe."

She turns to him, "Then find me a man who shall be of suitable rank, Mr Cromwell. A man in a Protestant nation who shall watch her well, for I shall not have her plotting with her fellow Catholics against my daughter."

He makes to object, but then stops. There is little point in arguing - she shall insist that he do so, and it is a lesser matter. If he must choose his battles, then this is one that he is content to lose - for its outcome shall not impinge upon the future of England to any great degree.

"Let us speak of other matters, my Lord Treasurer." Anne recognises that they have taken the point as far as it can go, "How do things stand with the ongoing closure of the religious houses?"

"Matters have stalled at present, Majesty." Cromwell admits, "I had been in the process of establishing the Court of Augmentations to handle the sale of lands confiscated from the greater Abbeys and Priories - and it had been my plan at that time to appoint the Lord Privy Seal to the post of Chancellor, for it is work that suits his capabilities. He is engaged elsewhere now, however, so I think it sensible to appoint either Mr Wriothesley or Mr Sadleir to the role instead - for both are most capable."

Anne nods. The relevance of those old-fashioned institutions has faded. Regardless of their importance in years past, they have become ever more remote from the communities that surround them, and are no longer concerned with offering succour to the poor as they once did. No - they are too wealth-ridden to be concerned with vagabonds and beggars nowadays. Most infirmaries and hospices are funded by endowments from the newly emerging gentry - eager to make their mark by setting their names upon the rolls of honour of those places they found for the benefit of those less fortunate than they. The prominence of Abbots and Priors is no longer what it was, and their influence is waning - the days when younger sons could prosper through entering a cloister are long gone. They have other opportunities for advancement now.

"See to the appointment of officers and the Chancellor. I think it too soon to commence the work of closures at this time - but suspension does not equal complete abeyance. Ensure that they are prepared in all aspects until such time as the closures recommence."

He nods,"I shall see to it. While the closures are to be suspended, Mr Cranmer has asked me to confer with you upon the matter of ongoing reform within the Church further to those closures, Majesty. He has prepared some papers for your consideration." He pauses.

"What?"

"Majesty - I would advise caution. While you are the regent - we must present any reform of the church most carefully, for only the Queen has the right to do so. She is the head of the Church of England now - and, while you have been given authority to rule in her stead, it is possible that any reforms you institute shall be rejected, for you are not the head of the Church."

He has no intention of delaying the reforms that both of them wish to bring about - but the risks involved in doing so while the Head of the Church is a mere babe are great. Queen Anne swore to stand in her daughter's stead to protect her realm and lead her government - but she did not receive the authority to govern the Church.

She turns to look at him, "Do you no longer wish to release us from all of the toils of Popery?"

There is no mistaking the hostility in her tone.

"Far from it, Majesty; I seek it as you do - but if we are to continue our reforms, then we must be careful in how we present them. There has never been a woman at the head of a Church - not at any time. Her Majesty's authority shall be difficult enough to assert as it is - but for you to do so in her stead shall place that almost irretrievably at risk."

"Then how do you suggest we continue?"

Rather than launch into a speech, he looks at her, "Forgive me, Majesty - but what would be your thoughts? I am here to advise you, yes - but also to listen to you."

Anne is startled at his response. While she has always wanted to express her opinions on matters of governance, she is still unused to being permitted to do so. All attempts have been quelled by her husband, or her father; and to find that her foremost adviser has not is still something of a novelty.

"The Court of Augmentations was created to deal with the closure of the larger religious houses under the auspices of my late Lord's authority, Mr Cromwell." She muses, "The laws to permit it have also been approved, so our furtherance of the reforms shall be upon that basis. The reverence our subjects hold for his late Majesty is still present, and still strong; thus we shall present it to England as a respectful continuance of his legacy."

Cromwell nods, and smiles, pleased at her good sense. Yes - she has indeed proved to have the degree of political acumen that he has always suspected. She does not have the authority to demand continued reforms to the Church of England; but that is not what she is being seen to do. Instead, she is acting upon her late husband's decree, and thus none can claim otherwise - for all the preparatory work had been done in the previous reign.

"Our minds are meeting, Majesty." He admits, for his plan has been much the same, "I fear that any of the reforms that Mr Cranmer seeks to bring about shall be perforce postponed until her Majesty is of sufficient age to publicly agree to them. What we must do is continue to use sermons to persuade the people that the old Church is corrupt and has wandered far from God."

Anne looks most interested, "If we cannot demand, then we persuade." She continues, "Ensure that copies of the English Scriptures are presented to all Churches in England for all to read if they wish to. Those who opt to reject the Popish faith shall be free to do so without censure. What of the Heresy laws? Can they be removed?"

Cromwell thinks it over, "Yes, Majesty. The Heresy laws in England are not church laws, but instead civil laws - thus they can be repealed without difficulty. If it please you, I shall draft a bill to repeal them at the first opportunity, to be presented to Parliament for their consideration at the next session."

"We shall not be as bad as those vile torturers that are retained by our supposed Holy Mother Church, my Lord Treasurer. We shall persuade - not coerce. Furthermore, none shall find themselves to have broken the law if they choose to follow the reformed faith."

At least they can take that one action, even if they can do nothing else: as Anne is not Head of the Church in England, she cannot demand that all Englishmen abjure the Pope. Not even Cranmer can do that - for even he is subservient to Elizabeth. Cromwell nods, rises and bows, "I shall complete the appointment of officials to the Court of Augmentations, Majesty - and request that they undertake to organise how they shall work when the time comes. Equally, I shall set to work upon a bill to repeal the Heresy Laws in England."

She nods her head and watches as he departs. Should that wretched girl Mary ever decide to emerge from Hunsdon, she shall find that she is the only Catholic left in England.

The weather has broken, sheets of rain hurtling to the ground in the midst of wildly hurling winds, vivid lightning and roaring thunder. Looking out from her privy chamber, Mary runs the beads of her rosary through her fingers, and prays quietly. God seems to be looking upon her plans with favour - for the violent storm is the perfect weather to bring a stranger into the household. Who shall be watching at their posts when they are taking shelter from the deluge?

She thinks again of the risk that she is taking. Her response to Wiltshire had been an expression of relief that he had seen the reality of the true faith at last - and an exhortation that he come to her side to lead her government once she has regained her throne. Were it not for her trust in those who deliver her communications at such risk to themselves, she would not have dared to write that letter - but she has advised him to come to her now, on this late August night. Should he not do so, she shall assume that he has played her false, and he shall find himself facing the block once she is Queen.

Her council is not well populated at this time - for she has only Wiltshire's commitment, alongside that of the Seymours and Suffolk. He is, of course, already upon the Council, and thus shall be prepared to stand at her side - and she is determined that he shall be her Lord Chancellor, while Wiltshire shall be her Lord Treasurer, his reward for his renewed faith and loyalty.

That heretic Cranmer shall be excommunicated, of course - she shall seek that sanction from the Holy Father, while the altogether more suitable Stephen Gardiner shall replace him, should they not require the presence of a Papal Legate to stamp out that rising fire of heresy and restore England to her proper place in Christendom.

She has not allowed herself to think such thoughts for a long time. In the absence of any hope that she would find aid in her quest to claim her rights, it seemed foolish - but if Wiltshire comes to her tonight, then she shall know that the time has come, for God has brought him to her.

Jane looks up at a soft knock upon the door to the chamber. They have dismissed all the maids, on the grounds that she does not require the presence of maids for she is not due to retire yet. Thus there are no witnesses other than Jane and Susan as Edward Seymour comes into the chamber, and fails utterly to disguise his hostility towards the man that he has escorted into the house.

Mary draws herself up, and turns to face the door. She is dressed in black to reflect her mourning for her late parents, and wears jewels that she has been able to purchase with the generous allowance granted to her by the council. She has taken care to look stately and royal, and her face is artfully solemn as she watches the man who had once told her she would never be permitted to see, or write to, her mother again enters the room and bows deeply before her, "Your Majesty."

Wiltshire is dressed in his finest suit of clothes, though they are somewhat damp despite the protection of the thick cloak and bonnet that are now dripping in the outside porch, but his behaviour is absolutely deferential as it never was when she saw him last. His former haughtiness buried beneath a new layer of respect for the woman he has pledged to serve.

"Welcome to my house, my Lord Wiltshire." She has no wish to use the hated name 'Boleyn', "I am grateful for your offer of aid, and I give thanks to God that you have seen the light of his truth, and returned to the true faith."

She does not see Seymour's eyes roll skywards, nor his look of surprise when Wiltshire goes down upon his knees before her, "I kneel at your feet in supplication, great lady - for I have acted most grievously against you, and set an unfit woman at the head of your Government while her illegitimate child wears your crown. I cry you mercy - for I did not think of any course other than my own advancement, and thus I used my daughter against your sainted mother. I have seen now the error of my ways and seek to set right that which is wrong."

Standing behind them, Seymour stares at Mary's pleased, proud smile. How can she not see that he is telling her only what she wishes to hear in order to profit from her favour? Instead, she accepts his kiss upon her hand, and gives him her own rosary, "I accept your pledge of loyalty to my banner, my Lord, and I look to you to establish my army to take back that which is mine. When we are prepared, we shall step forth and I shall proclaim myself Queen at the Cathedral of St Alban's - for that is the nearest great Church to Hunsdon - and call upon all Englishmen to rise to my banner. I shall establish my Court there temporarily while we gather support, and then we shall march upon London."

Wiltshire bows his head, "I shall gift you a personal banner - I seek only to know that which you would have set upon it."

Mary does not need to think upon it, "Set upon it the three lions of England, and the three Fleurs de lys of France - and my own motto, for it is most appropriate for our purpose: Veritas Temporis Filia."

"Truth: the daughter of time." Wiltshire says, approvingly, "That is indeed most appropriate, for you are a daughter, and you have truth upon your side."

"And all shall hear it, and come to me." She agrees. "Now, away, my Lord. Begin your preparations, for we cannot delay. I shall advise my Lord of Suffolk to be ready - I shall await your arrival with your men to deliver me from my imprisonment within these walls, and we shall take England back from those who have stolen her from me."

Wiltshire rises to his feet, "With God's help, we shall prevail. Thus we shall restore the right rule of the Kingdom, and drive out the lutheran heresy once and for all."

"And all shall be well once more." Mary approves, smiling with joy at her coming change in fortunes, "God go with you my Lord. I shall await your coming."

"I shall return in two weeks." He says, then bows and backs from her to depart. Ignoring Seymour, who shall escort him out, he is careful to conceal his victorious smirk. She believes him to be hers - and thus he shall regain all that his daughter took from him. Once she is gone, he shall have the high office he has always craved - and, most importantly of all, he shall be the power behind the throne.

My noble Lord Suffolk,

I write in haste and great joy to call you to my side, for it is my intention to claim my crown upon the feast day of the Archangels Michael, Gabriel and Raphael before the high altar of the great Abbey Church of St Albans. There I shall raise a great army of the people to follow me to London - and I shall affirm my commitment to the continuation of the monastic life, and the return of England to the Catholic fold.

I have been granted aid from a source so unexpected that it can only be thanks to God that I have received it. Thus I know that He has blessed my great enterprise, and I expect to celebrate mass in the great Abbey Church of Westminster before the leaves have fallen.

Make haste to my side, my most loyal friend - for I shall need a great Councillor to advise me as I form my new Government. Thus I offer you the post of Lord High Chancellor, in the fervent hope that you shall accept it.

Together we shall drive heresy out of England, and remove the illegitimate child of a King's mistress from her unwarranted throne - and I shall be crowned in her place by Christmastide.

God is with us. I am assured of it. All I desire now is to have your kindly counsel as I face my destiny.

Yours

Mary the Queen.

Rich stares at the letter, his eyes wide, "And you intend this to reach its destination?"

"Of course I do." Cromwell says, calmly, "I am keen to see what Suffolk does in response to it. He is more aware of the lay of the land than she - and knows that support from the Emperor shall only be forthcoming if she succeeds in her aim; not before. Furthermore, he also knows that there are now many in England who would oppose her in the face of her determination to destroy their faith. For those folk, it would require a choice between exile or the stake. I do not see tolerance in her intentions."

"She would be a fool if she did not offer such a conciliatory stance." Rich muses, "You are more concerned with reform than I - but even so, I would be obliged to flee abroad to keep my head upon my neck."

"As, indeed, would all but three men upon the council. I have no doubt that Wingfield and Tunstall shall race to her side as soon as they know of her move."

"And Norfolk?"

"He may do so - for he is of old Catholic stock; though I do not think it likely that he shall work easily with Wiltshire. But then, neither shall Suffolk." Cromwell pauses, "Interesting, is it not, that she has failed to mention her unexpected and God-given benefactor."

Rich snorts with amusement, "Jesu, yes. Suffolk shall have an apoplexy should he be apprised of it - and would fly to her side to warn her against him. If she has accepted him as her man, then he has indeed abased himself and proclaimed a return to the old faith."

"Alas, that is the easiest manner in which to win her favour. For she clings to her Roman faith so tightly that she seems blind to the truth that other men do not. It is easy to recite the Confiteor or the Credo and mean not one word of it - such is her belief, that she assumes that she is the rule, not the exception." Slowly, carefully, Cromwell re-sets the seal and returns it to the man who brought it to him, "Let him have the letter - and we shall see what he shall do. I am interested to discover whether he shall flee to Hunsdon to stop her, ride to St Albans to stand with her, or remain here and leave her with just Wiltshire at her side."

"He shall not abandon her to Wiltshire's machinations, Mr Cromwell; you know that as well as I. For all his faults - which are almost as legion as mine - he has never lost his loyalty to her mother." Rich looks suddenly nervous, "Do you think she shall manage it? To raise an army against us?"

Cromwell sits and chews at the inside of his cheek as he muses over the problem, "I cannot say how successful she shall be - but we have done what we can to persuade Englishmen that a grown woman as Regent is a better prospect than a girl who is barely of age and who can be controlled by power-hungry men with their own plans. Besides, there are too many men of the gentry who owe all that they have to the late King, and her Majesty the Regent - for they shall be the first to be turned out of their newly purchased homes when Mary demands the religious houses and their lands back. She has stated overtly in this letter that she shall do it."

Rich nods, sagely. One unexpected outcome of the closure of the religious houses - even the smaller ones - has been the emergence of a new class of gentry, who have never before owned land. England is, and has always been, governed on the principle of ownership of land - the more one has, the greater one's influence - and that land has been seized from multiple religious orders prior to their purchase of it. He doubts most strongly that, when Mary has them turned out of their properties, she shall give them their money back.

"The religious houses are a relic of times past." He says, cheerfully, "Perhaps, once, they cared for those around them in compliance with the commitment to hospitality - but the few remaining lay brothers have become lax upon the granges, while the choir monks hide behind their cloistered walls and pretend to themselves that the world is as it was when the first Edward sat upon his throne."

"Indeed so. That was the thought of her Majesty and I when we discussed the continued closures."

Rich stares at him, "You intend to continue? How? The Regent has no authority in religious matters!"

"She may not - but her late husband was responsible for the laws that allowed the closures - so she is merely carrying out his will." Cromwell's voice is artfully bland.

Rich raises his glass of claret, "I salute you, sir; and her Majesty, too. We shall win more gentry-folk yet." He sounds slightly tipsy.

"I shall accept your salute only if I return from the Queen without a flea in my ear for allowing Suffolk to receive his letter."

Anne stares at Cromwell, appalled, "You allowed him to receive this treacherous missive?" her tone is dangerous.

"Yes, Majesty."

"You want him to flee to her side?"

"I want to see whether he shall do so. If he departs for Hunsdon at all speed, then we shall know that he intends to stop her. If he instead rides to St Albans, then we shall know that he intends to support her. He, and Wiltshire."

"My father?" Anne stares at him, "She accepted his grovellings?"

"She thinks him to be sincere."

"Then she is an utter fool - and what little respect I might have had for her is gone." Anne snaps, "Even when my father and I still had cordial relations, I knew better than to trust him. His motives were always concerned solely with his personal advancement and enrichment."

"He still seeks that, Majesty; and he shall tell Mary whatever she wishes to hear in order to achieve it."

"Does she truly believe that she can win England by standing in an Abbey and claiming that she shall bring all the religious houses back and burn all heretics that do not flee?"

"I think it worth allowing the rumour that she shall open the way for inquisitors to test the faith of England's subjects to emerge amongst the population." Cromwell advises, blandly, "She has not stated that she would do such a thing - but I should be most surprised if she did not. Once it becomes clear to her that there are many who would refuse to bow to Rome again, she shall turn to the Pope's interrogators to seek out recusants and reformers."

"Rivers of blood. Pyres as far as the eye can see." Anne adds, coldly, "Suffering, misery and torture. She shall tear the country apart."

Cromwell shakes his head, "She has no firm ground upon which to stand. If God has turned his back upon England for disbarring her true Queen, then how is it that we have not been overrun with plague, or the sweat? Why are the granaries full? How is it that the harvest has been so bountiful, and trade has improved immeasurably? With the prices of victuals low, the poorest of folk can afford pottage and bread - and those who cannot can turn to the poor houses in England's towns for aid. She shall be hard put to find discontented burghers who demand change."

Anne looks at him in surprise; clearly she has not appreciated that a good harvest could be a friend to her daughter's rule.

"Sickness and hunger would have been her most profitable allies, Majesty." Cromwell continues, "Why would a man look to overturn the rule of the Kingdom when he has a full belly and there is no sickness in the realm? Even to those who are more credulously religious, the fair state of the kingdom does not suggest that God has turned His face from us for not putting a crown upon Mary's head. Indeed, it suggests the opposite."

Her eyes narrow, "So you think she shall fail?"

"I shall not make any statement upon the outcome of her mission, Majesty. Not until I have more data with which to work. The strongest position can be overturned by a fatal assumption - did not Harold make that error when the forces of the Conqueror turned tail at Hastings? I shall prepare for the worst - and hope for the best."

She nods, "Go to, Mr Cromwell. Ensure that, should we need to, we shall have an army at our back that shall send Mary's rabble into the deepest rabbit holes that they can find."

There is a knock upon the door, and Michael opens it to reveal Rich outside, slightly blown from running, "Forgive me - I thought you should be advised. Mr Sadleir asked me to deliver this to you with all haste - but offered only the words 'He has departed'." He brandishes a small note.

Anne beckons him into the room, and he bows before standing alongside Cromwell, "Do we know whether he has fled to Hunsdon, or St Albans?"

Rich hands a note to Cromwell, who hastily scans it, "It seems that Suffolk departed from the water-gate at Suffolk House, crossed to the wharf at the River Walbrook and exited the City via Aldgate."

"Then it is St Albans." Rich says, "Were he to ride to Hunsdon, the Moorgate would have set him upon the Harlow road."

The three exchange nervous glances. It seems, then, that Suffolk has indeed gone to Mary's side with the intention of supporting her claim. There is, of course, the possibility that he has attempted a deception - and intends to divert to Hunsdon; but his actions do not suggest that he is keen to dissuade her.

"I shall commence issuing papers of commission, Majesty." Cromwell says, hastily, "Mr Rich, you are in charge of ordnance and supply."

"I shall see to it at once." They turn back to Anne, awaiting her dismissal. As soon as she nods, they hasten out.

Rising from her chair, Anne crosses to the window of her chamber and looks outside to see that Elizabeth is playing in the rose garden with Jane Radcliffe, while Mistress Ashley watches over them.

"So you mean to move." She says, quietly to herself, "If that is so, then I swear - I swear - that you shall not have my child's crown. I shall crush any army that you send against me, and I shall bring you to your knees before me. Then, if I am so minded, you shall find yourself wedded to the most Protestant man I can find, as far away from this Kingdom as I can send you. As God is my witness, I shall defeat you - for her."

Elizabeth is laughing as she chases a butterfly - all unaware of the danger that is rising to encroach her. Her eyes glittering with anger, Anne turns from the window and seats herself in her chair again. Mary may covet the throne - but all that she shall find in her quest is war.

A war that she, Anne, intends to win.

Another A/N: I suspect the success of Elizabeth's progress and the acceptance of the people might seem a tad convenient given that there's an elder daughter in the equation, but there's been a lot of effort put into laying the ground for Elizabeth's reign, before and after Henry's death, not merely his determination to have her accepted when he was alive, but also what's been done afterwards. A careful propaganda campaign via church sermons to portray Elizabeth in a favourable light has painted her as a wise child-queen and Henry's true-born heir. Add to that the reforms that are having an economic benefit by re-valuing a previously debased coinage, the work to win over both Parliament and the lower levels of the nobility, as well as the disruption of factional strife amongst the upper nobility that has set much of their power also safely in Elizabeth's hands - Mary's facing a climb that's not merely uphill, but leaning backwards over her head.

Unfortunately - she doesn't know that, and the loss of that additional education in statecraft and compromise that she was obliged to undertake upon her readmittance to court has left her completely unprepared for the immense political - and religious - change that is sweeping England under Anne's Regency. The question, of course, is: will she find out thanks to wise advice - or will she learn the hard way?