A/N: A little present from the Easter Bunny...
After the quiet little interlude, it's time to move on again. Just a little bit further on in the year - as the Queen prepares to undertake a progress.
Don't worry, Appirinia - everyone had left the room before Cromwell had his breakdown. Risky though it is for her to be alone with a man, they were on their own. She's looked to him for comfort and support in hard times, so I wanted to turn the tables, and have him look to her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Contagion
"You have done well to miss this, Richard." Rochford is flicking hastily through a large sheaf of papers that set out the houses that the Queen shall visit as she makes her progress north, "All is done to secure our accommodations, thanks to Mr Paget's assistance, but nonetheless, I feel as though I have forgotten a hundred items or more."
"And you think me able to remember them?" Rich asks, sardonically, "My head is in a hundred places at once."
Rochford smiles to himself, he already knows that he is now not the only member of the inner circle whose wife is expecting a babe in due course - though Lady Rich is, of course, considerably less along than Jane, having discovered her condition barely a day prior to her husband's departure back to Court. Thus he is two weeks later in returning than he had intended.
"What is left to be done?" Rich resumes, following Rochford as they make their way to the Council chamber with the papers.
"Merely to pack the Queen's accoutrements, I think. Southampton has agreed to remain in London to man the battlements upon her Majesty's behalf - and he is most certainly the right choice to do so." They walk in silence for a minute or so, before Rochford resumes at a lower volume, "I am right glad that you are back, Richard. Since that evening of Primero, Mr Cromwell has not been in the best of tempers; and the clerks are feeling the sting of it." He does not elaborate - but then he does not need to. They both know that his mood stems from that quiet conversation in the Privy Chamber that they witnessed, but did not hear, and the departure of the wife of the Florentine Ambassador a week later, as she returned to oversee her husband's estates.
"I fear that you think me far more close in friendship to the Lord Treasurer than I truly am, George." He has been firmly ordered to eschew Rochford's title when they are in private, "There is friendship between us, yes - but it remains a fragile bloom, and I am well aware that I might destroy it if I act in an unguarded manner. It has been a hard won battle for me to be trusted even as much as I am now."
Rochford sighs, "I think we must between us find some way to reach him, for he has been most subdued, and Jane is certain that she sees signs of melancholia in him; she knows of such things, for her mother was afflicted in such fashion."
"I shall see if Chapuys has any devious gossip. That shall certainly interest him."
They take their seats at the Council table, as their colleagues drift in. From his seat, Rich can see that Rochford has not been incorrect in his concerns; the Lord Treasurer is present, but seems uncharacteristically disinterested, almost to the point of indifference. No - something is most certainly not right with him; and that can only bode ill.
All rise as Queen Elizabeth enters the room, her mother to her rear. She sits at the head of the table, in deference to her royal status, though it is Anne who shall lead the deliberations, sitting in a finely upholstered chair to her daughter's right.
"Greetings, gentlemen." Elizabeth says as they seat themselves too, then she turns to her mother, who smiles at her and then turns to her returned councillor.
"Welcome back to Court, Mr Rich. I trust that your good wife is well?" Everyone knows that she has conceived.
"As well as can be expected, Majesty." Rich admits, "I fear that she has always been afflicted by sickness in her first weeks - and it is no different upon this occasion. Our eldest, Mary, has come to keep her company in my absence."
"Please send her my best wishes, Mr Rich." Elizabeth says, "I am most pleased for her."
"I shall do so, Majesty." He smiles at her. Anne says nothing; she knows that such sentiments upon her own part shall not be welcome to a woman who once walked in the train of Queen Katherine.
Elizabeth's enthusiasm is high, as the first order of business is the final completion of arrangements for her Progress. She has not travelled so far north before, and her eagerness has increased day by day as their departure grows closer. There is no disguising the cheerful smile upon Rochford's face as he advises her that all they need to do now is complete the packing up of her garments, plate, bed and furnishings - and then they can go. No matter how well situated the host, the Queen shall not sleep in any bed but hers. Henry did not, and thus his daughter does not.
"If we are not interrupted, then I think I can safely advise that we shall be able to depart the day following the coming sabbath, Majesty." He finishes.
Matters move on then to the matters of tax. The reforms of Parliament have been welcomed by most, but not all; as they have entrenched the operation of Wolsey's Subsidy, whereupon all subjects pay a tax based upon a proportion of their property and earnings. The real work has been establishing a system of tax collection that is fair, in that the wealthy cannot avoid their obligations through bribery or concealing their wealth from the Commissioners. Being newly returned to the table, Rich is bemused at the dull monotone of Cromwell's voice as he describes the new measures that he has devised to ensure that those who are most able to pay are not able to evade their obligations. Such disinterest seems so unlike his colleague that it startles him.
Now is not the time to comment, so he remains silent as Lord Sandys rises, "I have received word from the Lord Mayor, Majesty. It appears that the plague has arrived in London rather earlier than usual; and I am concerned at the numbers that have been afflicted at this time. If it please you, I think that we should remove from Court as quickly as can be achieved, for it is not good to be at Whitehall at such a time."
Anne's expression does not change, but she feels a sharp stab of discomfort in the pit of her stomach: plague - and they are still close to the city…
All of her instincts scream at her to flee - and to do so immediately. She can see her councillors exchanging glances that proclaim much the same sentiment. It may be nothing; it may abate - but what if it does not?
"My Lord, please liaise with the household department to organise an immediate removal to Windsor for those who are to remain at Court while her Majesty is upon progress. I should appreciate it if accommodation is made available for the men of Parliament within the vicinity to ensure that they are able to continue their deliberations."
Elizabeth is frowning slightly, "Is it not better that I stay? If my subjects are suffering, then I should stay to be here for them."
Everyone stares at her, shocked at such a suggestion. It can only be thanks to her youth - Henry had had such a terror of sickness that he had fled from it at its first appearance.
Cromwell shakes his head, as though her suggestion has roused him from his melancholy torpor, "No Majesty - it is better that you depart. Should this fade, you shall have stayed for nothing - but should it spread, you shall be able to give comfort to many, rather than few, as you travel through the countryside."
"If that is so, then we must take care," Anne adds, worriedly, "I cannot forget the agony of those who came to Canterbury, and found nothing but misery and death. It is not possible to know how it happened - but they came in their multitude, and death stalked them in those numbers. Perhaps a large gathering creates a miasma of humours that sicken them."
"Then shall we reduce the size of the retinue, Majesty?" Rochford asks, "If there are few of us, then perhaps we shall not accumulate such humours."
"Not too few, George," she smiles at him, "It is a royal progress, after all. The Lord Treasurer is right - we must continue with our plans. I think it may be wise to disperse those members of the Court who are not essential to the Progress, however. If you could see to that, please?"
"I shall assist him, Majesty." Rich offers, and the pair rise, bow and depart, while the rest of the Councillors gather their papers to do likewise.
"Stay, Mr Cromwell." Anne intervenes as her Lord Treasurer reaches for his own papers, "I have matters that I wish to discuss with you." Her attention diverts to Elizabeth, "Majesty, I shall join you anon."
"Yes, Mama." Regardless of her elevated state, the Queen rises, bobs a small curtsey to her mother, and returns to her Privy Chamber.
He says nothing, at first. Then sighs, "Forgive me, Majesty. My mind is distracted."
"That, I know." She smiles at him, kindly, "But I must speak to you of other matters - for Lord Sandys's report concerns me. Do you think it wise for us to do what we have done? I cannot risk Elizabeth's health when her years are so tender. England cannot afford to lose her, for she has no heir."
Cromwell remains silent, musing over the problem, "At this time, it is impossible to say, Majesty. Plague has ever emerged in the warmer months, only to recede in time. God has smiled upon us with each emergence, and it has abated before too long - but that is not to say that it shall do so this time. Equally, it is not to say that it shall not."
"If Lord Sandys is correct, however, then it has already exceeded that which we have come to expect, and I am concerned that it shall be a bad year. If that is so, then my fear is that the people shall toil under its miseries, while we flee to safety and leave them to suffer."
He smiles, a little sadly, "Is it not ever thus, Majesty? The wealthy flee, while the poor remain. Your late Lord did much the same when the sweat overcame England. He sent you from court in hopes of saving your life, while he fled London to his palaces in the countryside, and moved frequently between them - all the while supping all manner of medicaments and physics in hope of staying alive."
"That is so - though he did not succeed in protecting me from that sickness - but I was fortunate, for God protected me, and I recovered." Anne smiles, "In so many things, he was brave as a lion; but he feared sickness more than any other thing upon the earth."
"I think it best that we commence the progress as intended, Majesty. We shall remain within the vicinity of London for a brace of weeks, if not a little longer. Thus we can remain observant. If it becomes clear that this shall be - as you describe it - a 'bad year', then we can revise our intentions accordingly."
She nods, then sighs, "Forgive me, Mr Cromwell; I have not failed to notice your distraction - but I need you here. I need you now. If this becomes a bad year, then we must act quickly, and without hesitation."
Her eyes are full of sympathy for his sadness, and he makes himself smile at her, "I shall do my utmost."
"So," Rochford says, sitting down rather heavily, "how many Courtiers is it now?"
"What - Courtiers that shall never forgive us for asking them not to come on the progress?" Rich asks, with surprising cheer, "Oh, I think about twenty. At least the other twelve took some pains to conceal their irked disappointment."
Rochford smirks, "They shall live - already I hear that some are making arrangements for their departures to country estates. The threat of plague, even fleeting, is sufficient to suggest to them that it might be best to remove themselves from London even if they cannot do so in the company of the Queen."
Rich's smile slips slightly, "Do you think we shall see it spread beyond the city this year?"
Rochford's expression becomes nervous, "I hope not - but all that we can do is pray for it to abate, and hope that God shall hear us."
The sound of footsteps approaching captures their attention, and they look up to find that they have been so engrossed in their work that they have lost track of time. The chambers are quiet now, the clerks finished for the day, and the candles are all lit. Only one other man is present now, as Cromwell approaches them, a bottle and three cups in hand, "Is it done?"
"It is." Rochford confirms, expansively, "And we have only been subjected to demands for divine wrath to descend upon us six times."
"Only six?" Cromwell smiles, "That is quite remarkable. I think I have accumulated at least fifty such curses in my time at Court - you are far in my wake, I fear, my Lord."
"George - please, we are in private."
Cromwell's eyebrows migrate towards his hairline at such an invitation. Rochford is, after all, a noble, not a commoner. Rich might feel comfortable with such informality, but he is a Knight.
"If I may refer to you as Thomas?" Rochford continues, in almost a wheedling tone, though there is a humorous twinkle in his eye.
"It seems appropriate." Cromwell concedes, "For I come in hopes of offering a degree of contrition for my foolish behaviour of the last few weeks."
Rich looks bemused, for he has not been at court, but Rochford shakes his head, "It is of no moment, Thomas. We are all beholden to incidents from our past. I would be naught but a hypocrite if I berated you for your actions - for did I not betray my own sister in hopes of advancement for myself?"
Cromwell shakes his head, and sits, "It is more than that - for my foolishness coloured more than my feelings for a woman - it caused me to abandon my faith, and to turn my face from Rome. While I have accepted and given myself to the reformed faith, my anger at Rome was aimed at more than the mere corruption of the prelates - but at its cruelty towards a single individual, and that is not a sound foundation upon which to base a critical opinion."
"It is a human one, however." Rich reminds him, "God knows that I have allowed my heart and…other parts…to dictate my actions on many occasions. Not, perhaps in such fashion as to amend my view of God - but nonetheless…" his voice trails off, and he reddens slightly. One would have to have been blind to have failed to notice his infidelities over the years.
"And I am no better." Rochford adds.
Cromwell sighs, and uncorks the bottle, pouring out three cups of rich, dark claret, "Perhaps I give off the air of the ascetic, Gentlemen - but I assure you that I am not. I have more than sufficient faults of my own for which God shall call me to account when my time comes; but I think it worth telling the truth to you - for I suspect my misery has been attributed incorrectly."
"In what way?" Rochford asks.
"I might have given the impression that I was enamoured of Signora Conti when she came to us that evening - but my heart was sore not for what we lost as children - but what was taken from me as a man. I looked to her for that moment as someone who could salve another pain entirely - and I think she knew that to be so. It was not her departure that tore at my heart, but the loss of my dear wife; for with her I knew much happiness, and that was taken from me cruelly - and brutally swiftly, for she was gone in barely a night - and then to lose my two dear girls…"
"That is cruel indeed." Rich sympathises, for he, too, has lost children; for a moment his expression seems equally sad - though he hastily rearranges his features to conceal it. Even now, he does not feel safe to show weakness in this place.
"Perhaps - but it is done, and cannot be undone. I may have lost my wife and daughters, but my son lives, and prospers; and that is a great consolation to me. All that we can do is go on. We have a young queen to protect and teach, and thus I offer you my contrition for my foolishness, for I cannot serve her Majesty if I am over-involved in regrets that cannot be mended." Cromwell takes a deep sigh, and raises his cup, "To her Majesty the Queen. Long may she reign."
Without hesitation or confusion, Rich and Rochford do likewise, "Long may she reign."
The meal set before the hungry courtiers is magnificent in both quality and quantity, as their host is keen to impress. Sir James Fenton is only recently knighted, largely in response to his offer of accommodation for the Court, but he is one of the growing population of men who have won wealth through hard work and trade, and his fine manor is built upon the former site of a small religious house that seemed to do no more when it existed than take up space. To Anne, it seems appropriate that their first port of call is owned by someone with a family history akin to her own lineage.
There is no doubt that Sir James is very wealthy indeed, thanks to his successes in the cloth trade; but he seems to lack pretension, and has welcomed them honestly and warmly. The reduced size of Elizabeth's entourage has even ensured that no one shall be housed under canvas - a regular hazard for those who travelled in Henry's retinue - as a number of the former abbey buildings have been converted into accommodation for the visit. All in all, the prospects for the visits seem set most fair.
Seated at the centre of the high table, Elizabeth is hiding her tiredness excellently, though her yawns are becoming harder and harder to conceal. It is no surprise to Anne, as her daughter has previously always travelled in her litter; today is the first day that she has spent entirely in the saddle. Madame Astley, newly married, is watching her discreetly, while Jane Radcliffe and Anna Conti, who has entered the Queen's service, stand behind her to offer her comfits and wine if need be.
Now that the feast has been voided, the strains of a pavane trickle down from the musicians' gallery. It is not of the quality that would be heard at court - for they are not Court musicians - but they are competent, and it is not long before the assembled courtiers are engaged in the dance.
Sir James's wife, Susannah, is a shy woman with a slight stutter who has been rendered quite mute by her illustrious guests. She has, however, overseen the work of the kitchens with great skill, and Margery is in the midst of a campaign to befriend their hostess in order to draw her out of her shell.
George and Jane are amongst the dancers, closer than ever, while Sussex is in conversation with Mr Cromwell and Mr Rich alongside the banquet table. She conceals an amused smile at Rich's disgust as he consumes another mouthful of that cream cheese that he so despises. It is essential, of course: all finish their meals with it to ensure that their stomachs are closed, but that does not mean that he is obliged to enjoy it.
It all seems so peaceful - so tranquil; they have travelled through sunlit countryside, people working in the fields setting aside their implements to cheer the Queen's column as it passes through. The grime, heat and reek of London has been left far behind, her daughter now safe in the Hertfordshire countryside for two weeks, before they continue north and travel further away from any risk of sickness.
The thought of their flight catches at her conscience, and she looks up to catch Mr Cromwell's eye. Immediately, he excuses himself and approaches, "Majesty?"
"Is there news from London?"
He does not need to ask what news, "Not at present, Majesty. I have asked for messengers to be sent should there be any change to the situation."
"I think, upon the morrow, we must decide what we shall do should matters worsen." She muses, "It is better to be prepared and find it was not necessary, than to find it necessary and not be prepared."
He nods, "That is a wise course, Majesty. It may be that people shall flee the sickness, and thus we must ensure that there are places to which they can go. I have dispersed my household to properties outside the city, and ensured that Gregory has removed to one of his properties in Rutland, so I am free from concern for their immediate welfare, and thus able to devote myself to your service at this time. Equally, I have asked Southampton to prepare a militia to maintain order should matters deteriorate."
"Deteriorate?" Anne asks, nervously.
"I have seen it in past years, Majesty." He sighs, "I cannot accept that such sickness is an act of malice - but without any understanding of how it is that the sickness occurs, people are fearful. I have seen the most egregious acts of cruelty to innocents who are blamed for such maladies as this."
"Poisoning the wells, you mean." She is hardly unaware of such fears - she has lived through sickness before.
He nods, "I cannot accept that to be so. It seems too convenient, does it not?"
"Indeed so - but what can we do? The sickness comes, then it departs - like a thief in the night. None know of its arrival until the first falls sick, and its departure can only be certain after a long time without victims. How is it that it has come here? It was not here in the spring."
"I cannot answer that."
"I know." She sighs, "It is not a question that I expect you to answer." Her eyes scan the throng, dancing, chattering, laughing, eating…while in the poor communities of London, people grow sick, "Should matters grow worse - you must tell me."
"I shall, Majesty; I give you my word. Equally, I have ensured that, should that happen, messengers shall be sent to us daily to keep us apprised." She nods, gratefully, as he bows and steps back two paces before turning to return to his colleagues. Nearby, Elizabeth looks keen to join the dance, but her yawns suggest that it is unlikely that she shall do so.
"Go to bed, my dear daughter." She smiles, "There shall be dancing upon the morrow - and I am sure that Sir James has organised a hunt for the Court in the park if the weather is fair."
"Thank you, Mama." Elizabeth is old enough now to accept when she is too tired to remain present, and does not object. Instead, she waits for the pavane to end, before rising; a movement that brings everyone to a halt to bow to her. Even now, she is unused to such deference, and she blushes charmingly at the gesture before making her way around the high table, Mistress Astley at her side, Jane and Anna to her rear, and departs the hall.
The musicians move on into a galliard, and the hall is a mass of swirling skirts and gowns as the pace of the dance increases. Such activity is rather more than is possible for Jane Rochford, concerned for the babe within her, and she has returned to sit alongside Queen Anne, while her husband crosses to join Cromwell and Rich, the three of them now rather looked upon as a political triumvirate amongst the Court.
"No news from London?"
Cromwell shakes his head, "None. I am not sure whether to consider it a good or bad thing; for if this sickness does spread beyond London, then we shall need to take steps to ensure the safety of the Queen, and also the welfare of her Subjects."
"That shall not be easy." Rich sighs, "Without knowing how it is that the sickness travels, how can we protect any against it? All we can know for sure is that people shall flee from it should it not abate."
"I have done what I can to prepare for that, should it happen." Cromwell admits, "The sickness in Canterbury was contained, for none were permitted to leave the cathedral precincts - but it is not possible to enclose all of London: too many of the gates are in a poor state of repair, while many of the walls have become ruinous."
"Besides," Rochford adds, "those enclosed would fight tooth and nail to escape. I know that I would do so if I were so confined. Now that my Jane is with child, I would fight all the harder."
"We shall discuss what we must do should the worst happen upon the morrow, Gentlemen." Cromwell advises, "Her Majesty the Regent expects to meet with us."
"And what shall we do in the intervening time?" Rich asks.
"Pray that it does not."
The sounds of horses in great numbers filters up towards the large chamber that has been set aside for the Councillors who are present. Disappointing as it is to not go out upon the hunt, there has been news from London overnight, and it is far from good.
Cromwell's expression is grim as he rises to his feet, "Forgive me, Majesty; it appears that the outbreak has indeed begun to spread; and already people are looking to flee from London. Those who have homes outside the city have departed to them for the Summer, and thus are not affected - so it is those of little means who are now seeking to escape."
"And those of no means at all?" Anne asks, quietly.
"They remain - and they die." He admits, "This sickness is virulent - and all signs suggest that it is indeed plague. Where the sickness has taken hold, all within the household are obliged to remain, and their houses are closed up. A few doctors have not fled, but they are helpless against it - of those who sicken, only a small number survive."
"They are truly sure that it is the plague?" Rochford asks, concerned.
Cromwell nods, "The symptoms are as recorded from previous outbreaks, my Lord."
"Then I am glad that we removed the Court to Windsor, Mr Cromwell." Anne sighs, "At least those of the Council who remained are safe within the walls. I suggest that those who do not serve upon the Council should remove themselves to their estates as soon as they may. I would ask that the rest of the Council attend us, as was originally intended - though I should appreciate it if Sir John Russell remains alongside my Lord of Southampton - for they are the other officers of State. They shall hold the centre in London, while we shall remain here and await the rest of the Council."
"They are welcome to lodge here, Majesty." Fenton, as their host, is also present.
Anne smiles at him, "Thank you Sir James. I think that her Majesty should continue on progress for the time being - it is better that she travel away from the danger - but also that she move amongst the people as she does so. I do not wish for her to remain within proximity of London should this matter grow worse."
Sussex is nodding his agreement, "I think that wise, Majesty. I shall, of course, remain here, as - I have no doubt - shall my colleagues." He does not need to look up to know that Rochford, Rich and Cromwell are equally in agreement, though Rochford looks nervous for his wife, while Rich looks frightened.
"Her Majesty, and all of her ladies, shall continue upon the progress." Anne agrees, "You shall also go, George. I would prefer it if you remained with your wife at this time."
Immediately, he opens his mouth to protest, "Sister, do not ask me to abandon you in this time of need…"
"Your babe, and your wife, require you more than I. Do not argue with me." Her expression is set, while his turns rather stubborn. For a moment all present wonder if he intends to protest further, but instead he sighs and submits, "Yes, your Majesty."
"You are my daughter's uncle, George. I want her to have at least one member of her family with her at this time. I cannot go - so I ask you to do so in my stead."
"And if the sickness reaches here?"
"If it does, then there shall still be a Queen in England, and she shall be safe with those who shall protect her."
He bows, "I shall see to preparations to move on with a reduced column, Majesty - am I correct in assuming that we shall not depart earlier than intended?"
She nods, "I do not want to alarm Elizabeth unduly. It may yet be that the sickness shall abate."
"I think it wise that we inform her, Majesty." Cromwell sighs, "She is reaching an age where silence shall not be appreciated. Young though she is, she has the sharp wits of both of her parents; and is thus burdened with wisdom beyond her years."
For a moment, it appears that she shall protest, but then she sighs, "I fear that you are right, Mr Cromwell. It seems that we cannot continue to pretend that she can remain both a Queen, and an innocent. I had hoped to protect her for just a little longer."
"I think that we shared that hope, Majesty." Sussex commiserates, "But we made a commitment, did we not, to prepare her to rule as a great Queen. Thus we must treat her with honesty and frankness, in spite of her tender years. To do otherwise would be to grant her a great disservice."
Anne looks across at Rich, who has said nothing. It could not be more obvious to her that he is frightened - of the sickness, of what it might do to him and what it might do to his family, far away in Essex. But there is something else there, too; alongside the fear - as though he is disgusted with himself for being so afraid. Rather than comment, and draw attention to his silent conflict, she smiles at him, "We shall face this together - Regent and Council. If England must face a time of trial, then we shall stand united against it, and trust in God to aid us."
While he still says not a word, he finds it in himself to return that smile, albeit rather weakly, as she continues, "I have the men that I trust the most at my side, and my child is safe - naught shall stand in our way, shall it?"
Cromwell smiles at her as she settles back in her chair and regards them all. Brave words - easily spoken. Perhaps it is hubris, but Anne still wears the foolish mantle of England's 'mother of the realm', and to turn tail and flee shall aid no one. Elizabeth shall continue her journey north, ahead of the sickness, while those who serve her shall remain to face the danger, and keep England together should the worst of darkness truly descend.
Elizabeth's expression is one of great anguish, "I will not go, Mama! I will not leave you here - I am the Queen, it is for me to face this trial!"
All around her exchange glances that are admiring, but also concerned. The news from London grows worse each day, as more and more houses are shut up to contain the plague that has struck the families within them. Worse, there are reports now that the plague has emerged in other parts of England, fanning out from the capital in all directions. It can only be thanks to those who have fled, though how they are carrying the sickness with them, none can tell.
Without hesitation, Anne embraces her daughter, "You must, my dearest. You must. You are the hope of this Kingdom - the sun rising. If we are to walk into the valley of the shadow of death, we must fear no evil - and I can do so if I know that you are safe. It is my task, as your Regent, to lead England through whatever flames are set to burn us; for, should I falter in doing so, then you shall still live. Your uncle shall travel with you, as shall Lady Rochford, and all of your ladies. I shall remain here with the Council, and we shall do all that we can to face this time of pain."
"I am the Queen!" she protests again, "It is my order that I remain - I demand it!" All see it - that flash of temper that comes from both of her parents.
"You are my child." Anne counters, "And I am granted the powers of a Regent. Until you are of age, I rule England. Thus I do not accept your order. I know that you wish to face this trial as England's Queen - and, God knows, you shall be required to do so again and again when you are of age and the realm is yours to rule. But not this time. England needs you to live, Elizabeth; and thus, if one of us is called to God's side before this has ended, I am determined that it shall be me, not you. It is my task as England's Regent - but most of all, it is my task as your mother. I have faced sickness before, and lived. I shall do so again."
Now Elizabeth's lower lip is trembling as she fights to contain her emotions, "I beg you, Mama - do not ask me to go."
"It is not my wish to do so, my dearest." Anne tightens her embrace, "But we are Queens both - and must do what is right for England. Not what we wish to. Perhaps once it was possible to rule by whim and desire, but those days are gone; and we are not Kings who are free to act as we will, regardless of consequence."
Slowly, and with a visible effort, Elizabeth regains control, and straightens; stepping back from her mother, "Yes Mama."
Resting her hand upon her daughter's cheek, Anne smiles at her, "In this moment, you are truly a Queen. Know that I am proud of you - and love you deeply. Go, my dearest, dearest girl - for you must live to rule England. I swear to you that I shall do all that I can to bring your realm through the fire, and I trust in God that we shall see one another again in York. Pray for us."
"I shall do so." In spite of her calm demeanour, it is clear to all that Elizabeth's resolve is about to break, but she holds her composure, curtseys, and withdraws. It is certain, once she is upon the other side of that large door to their Privy Chamber, that she shall allow the tears to come.
"Keep her safe, George." Anne's voice is equally strained, "Keep her alive. Not merely for England - but also for me."
Without a word, Rochford crosses to her and gently wraps his arms about her as she gives way to her emotions, and sobs into his shoulder. Looking up, he exchanges a glance with those who shall remain. There is no certainty of safety in flight - but it is better than to stay; and he wonders which of those faces he shall see again should God grant their Queens a reunion in York.
"We shall depart upon the morrow, Majesty." He assures her, "I give you my word that I shall do all in my power to protect the Queen. God willing, we shall be together again in York when all is done."
Stepping back, he bows deeply and turns to depart.
Her eyes pained, but her expression set, Anne turns back to her three most prominent councillors - the only ones left at her side, "Make ready Gentlemen. England has need of us. Let us not disappoint her."