A/N: Somewhat later than usual - but here nonetheless! Held up by a long working day and an inadvertent swipe on the iPad that caused everything I've amended as I was proofing the chapter to be consigned to the ether - obliging me to start all over again - here is the next chapter!
As always, thanks for your comments and reviews, which I truly appreciate. Sorry for keeping everyone on tenterhooks about the royal baby; but we're nearly there. Events are moving swiftly now, and there's a little bit longer to go; but we'll get there in the end.
In the interim, Philip holds his first council meeting as King in the Queen's absence, while, out in London, other plans are starting to swing into motion...
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Edward of Carnarvon
The atmosphere around the Council chamber is strange. Not tense, nor strained; but strange. It has been some years since there was last a King at the head of the table; but that King has not been foreign born since the second Richard entered the world in the duchy of Aquitaine, and certainly not a King only through marriage.
His Grace of Northumberland is closer to the head of the table today, owing as much to his staunch loyalty as to his stewardship of the Council of the North, though Earl of Cumberland has pleaded sickness, and is not present. Judging by the descriptions of the Usher sent to fetch him, it seems that it is a genuine sickness, and all are glad that he has opted to stay away.
In his habitual place to the King's right, Cromwell observes the young man who sits alone at the head. For all their watery rheum, his eyes are still sharp in reading the intent of those they observe, and the Lord Chancellor is relieved to find that there is discomfort and minor apprehension in the King's demeanour, rather than a sense of claiming his true place. Elizabeth's crown, it seems, shall be safe. Inwardly, Cromwell sighs with relief; this had always been the test he had been dreading: that Philip might see his wife's confinement as the opportunity to seize control of the throne and keep it once she has borne their babe. Fortunately, it seems that his love for her is greater than his desire to wear her crown.
Their discussions thus far have been cordial and productive, as the matters under consideration have only beneficial impacts for the Realm; but there is one matter that has become more prominent in the weeks prior to Elizabeth's confinement, and it cannot be put off.
"And what of the discontent in the Realm over matters of religion?" Philip asks, "It is of great concern to me that innocent Englishmen are accused of disloyalty to England solely because of the manner in which they practice their faith. All men of England are her Majesty's true subjects, and I am as intent as any at this table to uphold the principles of the Settlement."
Cromwell nods, "I can only ask that you forgive those who act so, Majesty. It is no secret that I look to reform, and support her Majesty's rights to lead England's church; but nonetheless, age has brought wisdom, and I am no longer keen for the removal of the Roman rite from England's shores. To oppress those who do not agree with me serves only to entrench their beliefs all the more; and we all, after all, address our prayers to the same God, do we not? Her Majesty has often said that it is not for her to make windows in men's souls, and that is a wiser principle than any I might have offered."
Philip nods, "My father permits the Inquisition in Portugal, but even he is shocked at times by the actions of the people when an Auto da fé is announced in a town. The number of accusations between neighbours during the thirty days' grace are extraordinary - of those who have relapsed from their conversions, a remarkable number seem to have a degree of wealth, or are in dispute with their accusers. Evidence can only be gathered from witnesses, after all."
"It has ever been thus, Majesty." Wiltshire agrees, "For all the worthy intentions to root out that which one considers to be bad in society, a degree of bitterness and rivalry seems always to seep in and corrupt those intentions."
"Perhaps." Philip continues, "But to see such behaviour in England, in defiance of her Majesty's decrees and laws, is not to be countenanced. I accepted the Settlement in the act of matrimony, and I have seen with my own eyes that the Realm has been well served by it. What action has been taken to mitigate these vile rumours about her Majesty's catholic subjects?"
Richmond produces a folio of papers, "We have issued pamphlets to counter those that emerge from presses in London, Majesty. Londoners are particularly fervent for the English Church, and thus it is here that is the most rapt audience for such scurrilous sentiments. Further north, the old faith remains well settled, and disputes between men are largely over property, boundaries and land - as they have always been - rather than over matters of religion. Nonetheless, his Grace of Canterbury has instructed his bishops to ensure that scriptural passages relating to peaceful brotherhood and love for one's neighbour are being regularly preached to congregations regardless of whether the mass is in English or Latin."
"Should I meet this man, William Allen?" Philip asks, suddenly, "Perhaps it might serve if I could dissuade him from his agitations."
The councillors exchange nervous glances. Inevitably, all eyes settle upon Cromwell, who smiles, "I applaud your Majesty's intentions as Mr Allen is becoming something of a focus for the rabble-rousers; but I fear it should serve only to fuel the fire, for they shall claim that you have met with him to grant him consent to act. It shall then be expanded into a grand conspiracy, I fear. That catholic priests must, at this time, depart England to study is perhaps - in hindsight - an error upon our part; but that door is currently closed, and to open it now would serve only cause those who see Catholic conspiracies where there are none to be convinced that their conclusions are not baseless." He looks a little embarrassed, "Had I been a man of such youth, then I suspect that I might be one of them."
Philip sags slightly, "I fear that, whatever action I might take - even if it be none at all, it shall be wrong."
"That is the burden of Monarchy, your Majesty."
"In which case, continue to counter the rumours as best you can, and equally continue to keep watch upon those who conspire. If we can hold all together until her Majesty has borne England a son, then perhaps the voices of those who agitate shall be drowned out by the cheers of celebration."
The men around the table nod, "It shall be done as you wish, Majesty." Cromwell agrees. While it is hardly a solution - for what solution can there be in such circumstances - it shall serve. As long as nothing happens to fuel the embers into a fire, all shall be well.
He grimaces to himself as the Councillors rise to depart. As always, Wiltshire and Richmond approach to assist him from his chair, and Wiltshire has seen his expression, "What is it, Thomas - is your hip paining you?"
"Nay, George. I have been a fool. I have tempted providence with an intemperate thought."
"Ah. You have condemned England to disaster and civil war because you thought something. I take it that it was along the lines of 'as long as naught falters?'"
Cromwell nods as he is helped to his feet.
"In which case." Richmond adds, stepping aside to allow his friend to settle his sticks, "England is indeed doomed, for we have all done likewise."
Cromwell smiles at his mild jest, "Then let us to work. Perhaps we can counter this foolish charm that we have set by our actions, rather than our thoughts."
Lady Jane Wiltshire sits at her set of virginals and works her way through a new Coranto in preparation to entertain the Dowager Queen upon her return to Court. While she is usually at Anne's side, domestic matters pertaining to the supply of victuals to their House upon the Strand has required her to spend a week or so away from the Palace, and she has enjoyed spending the time engrossed in such business; particularly as it has given her a rare opportunity to spend time with her son.
William is not resident at the house, but instead lodges within the Inns of Court, where he is studying Law. Not perhaps the most suitable pastime for a man of his rank, but the young man has a sharp intellect, and a great desire to serve at Court in a more useful capacity than merely holding a title. That two of the most highly placed Courtiers in England began their careers as lawyers is another reason.
As she completes the piece, pleased that she has now conquered it, she turns to where he is sitting by the fireplace. He is reading a document with great care, and she smiles at his ignorance of her scrutiny. While he favours his father in looks, he has her eyes. Even in her inevitably biased opinion, he is a handsome young man who shall certainly marry well.
Eventually, he notices that the music has stopped, and raises his eyes, "That was a fine piece of music, Mother. Are you to play it at Court when you return?"
Jane nods, "I am, William. When your studies are completed, I have no doubt that you shall be introduced to Court. I am told that you have proved to be a fine student, and your Masters are pleased with your work."
He reddens somewhat, but smiles, "Thank you, Mother. I am keen to please you, and Father." He pauses, then frowns slightly, "Forgive me, I have not spoken to you of certain matters - but your proximity to the Queen suggests to me that I should have done so."
Jane crosses to the opposite chair, "What matters, William?"
"I have no doubt that their Majesties' Council is aware of the fomentation of factions in London; but I think it wise to offer my equal observations, for there have been many disputes in the Inns of Court, too."
Immediately, her expression is intent, "Say on, my son."
"There seems to be little involvement from Lincoln's Inn, Mother, for they are situated away from the Temple. There are certainly discussions there, for I have heard talk of it amongst my friends; but the greater disputes are between the young men of the Middle and Inner Temple, for the two Inns have divided along religious lines to a significant degree. There are men of both faiths within each, of course; but it seems that there are more who are Catholic in the Middle temple, and more that are Protestant in the Inner. There are many arguments - as there are always, of course - but those concerning religion seem most often to falter into fights, for those who proclaim themselves to be Protestant overtly proclaim their loyalty to her Majesty, as opposed to his Majesty, and demand that all others do likewise. Those that do not, whether they be Catholic or not, are decried as traitors. There have been no deaths yet; but I think it is not long before someone shall be knifed. There have been occasions where young men have been chased down and beaten for failing to decry his Majesty as a foreign usurper. Even those who are also of England's faith are treated so if they do not proclaim loyalty only to the Queen."
Jane frowns, "Do those who are of the old faith respond in kind?"
"Only when they are in the majority in terms of numbers, Mother. All are aware that the old faith is viewed poorly in London, and thus do little to provoke spite. The violence that has been meted out upon them, however, is giving them cause to think otherwise now - and some are arming themselves with the intention of protection. How long it shall be before 'protection' becomes 'assault' is a matter upon which I am not willing to speculate. I am more fortunate, for I am the son of the Lord Privy Seal, and therefore my loyalty to the Queen is unquestioned."
"Even if they are temperate in the beginning, all young men reach a point where an injury cannot be borne any longer." Jane agrees, "That is most disturbing, William - I am grateful that you have seen fit to tell me of this, for I can send on to their Majesties that such things are happening. That they are confined to the Inns of Court at this point matters not. Sooner or later it shall move beyond the borders of the Temple, for the pamphlets that are circulating are becoming ever more lurid in their claims against her Majesty's catholic subjects. We all fear that the only solution to this shall be the birth of a son to her Majesty."
William nods, "I think that shall be at least a salve upon this imagined wound. For England to receive a male heir from their Majesties' union might well serve to silence those who claim that a Catholic king is an affront to God."
"An affront?" Jane is shocked at his choice of words.
"Indeed, Mother. It is stated that God is an Englishman, and thus despises all who are of the Roman faith, for it is an abomination in his sight. The Bishop of Rome is depicted in some quarters as the Antichrist - and those who look to him as their Primate are thus devil worshippers - to the point that it is even claimed that the belief in transubstantiation means that all Catholics truly do eat flesh and drink blood - whereas true Christians break bread together as Christ did."
"Oh dear." Jane sighs. Better to speak such temperate words than the entirely more sulphurous sentiments that are bubbling under the surface. How can people be so stupid? England has prospered through fellowship between the old and the new faiths; why do young fools want to throw that equilibrium into confusion? Even William Allen's motives are based not upon freeing young catholic men from the need to cross the channel to enter the priesthood, but instead to create a great army of inquisitors that shall drive all heretics into the sea. What has happened to that pragmatism that kept England's course steady when the old King died so unexpectedly? Madness; all of it. Utter madness.
"I shall report all of this to your father, who shall raise it with the Council, William. Thank you for your frankness - it shall be most useful. I beg of you, be careful - if matters escalate, then you must depart your lodgings and seek refuge here. Promise me; I could not abide it if you were harmed."
He reaches across to take her hand, "I promise, Mother."
Young Henry of Warwick gives every impression of a youth who chafes against scholarship, preferring more 'manly' pursuits such as fencing, hunting and wrestling. He does so primarily to ensure that his circle of friends remain unaware that he reports their activities to his father, and thus this afternoon he is comfortably settled upon a window seat in the oriel of his father's lodgings at Court, engrossed in a Latin treatise upon the politics of the ancient Greeks.
He has spent the morning feigning resentment at his enforced residence in the Palace, while Thomas Percy has complained endlessly at his equal incarceration. God above, were he not so determined to grouse and whine over something so little, Warwick would quite appreciate his company; but the youth's self-regard has grown far in excess of his actual talent, and thus he has become quite a tiresome companion.
Northumberland returns from a Council meeting to find his son engaged in worthwhile work, "What have you there, lad?"
"An interesting work, Father; a scholar from Nürnberg discussing matters of Athenian government. After a morning of listening to Percy's grumblings over the monumental injustice worked against him, it is a pleasant distraction; though he states that he has hopes that he shall hear from his banished friends, for they are engaged with students in the Temple, who seem most intent upon the same objectives as he."
"Lord Wiltshire's son has spoken of such youths. It is there that seems to be the most fertile ground for this nascent rebellion that he seems so keen to cultivate."
Warwick sighs, "Percy is still also intent upon presenting this ridiculous play Edward of Carnarvon."
"Assuming that he can find a company of men to present it, Harry."
The youth swallows, "And if he can?"
Immediately, Northumberland pulls up a chair, "Do you think it likely that he shall succeed?"
"He shall if his father becomes involved."
"Nay - he has declared his loyalty to both King and Queen. He has been absent from the Council for much of this week, but he is not alone in becoming sick: most of his servants have also been afflicted by whatever humours laid him low."
"I have no doubt that his sickness is genuine, father; but it would do no harm to keep careful watch upon him, for Percy is delighted at his father's interest in his treacherous aspirations - albeit with a greater interest in the political aspects than the religions ones. That said, I suspect that Percy's religious aspirations are more based upon a desire to enforce power over others than to save them. His fanaticism has sharpened into a desire to stand ahead of other men."
The pair look up as a steward approaches, "Apologies; I have been asked to present this to you." He holds out a small paper to Warwick, who reaches for it, frowning in bemusement. As he reads it, Northumberland is startled at his expression.
"What is it?"
"An invitation to a play, Father." Warwick passes the document to his father, "It seems that the young men of the Inner Temple are going to present scenes from Edward of Carnarvon."
"To whom?"
"I suspect it is to their fellow students and perhaps some of the scholars. No one not of the Temple shall be likely to see it; I imagine that the intention is to develop some momentum in their factional squabbles with those of the Middle Temple. Percy has invited me - if I can find some means of escaping the Palace."
"Then escape the Palace, Harry. I am keen to know the import of this play - as are my fellow Councillors. It may be that the quality of the work is so poor that it shall inspire no one."
Warwick shakes his head, "I think that they do not need to be inspired, Father. Even should this be the worst theatrical work ever written, they shall cheer for it if it panders to their existing intent."
Northumberland sighs, "Alas, I think the same; but we can hope. If we have at least some notion of how seditious the play might be, it may be possible to ensure that it shall not be performed more publicly. Until her Majesty's child is born, we are in a dangerous position. I should very much prefer it that we ensure that her Kingdom is still hers when she emerges from her lying in."
"I shall view the performance - and then you shall know for certain." Rising from his seat, Warwick sets the treatise aside, and goes in search of a cloak, leaving his father to peruse the small invitation. Of all the times for this to happen…
But of course it would happen now - how could it not? Her Majesty is in confinement, and awaiting the birth of her first child. Should she live, and bear a son, then they can counter any rebellion that might arise through the power of a Tudor heir alone. But if she bears a daughter; or, worse, if she dies…
In spite of the heat, Northumberland suddenly feels very cold indeed.
"Come closer, my son. Thou has the favour of the Queen and dark Mortimer; and all that can be grasped shall thus be thine in payment for loyalty. Thy friendship with the pale boy Edward shall serve thee most well, as it has served me. Grant false sympathies upon widows and orphans, for the grasping of their lands to thine own gain. Speak false words in his ear of others in his favour until his favour is thine alone, and then none shall oppose us. If England cannot be ours by blood, then let it be ours by perfidy, for wealth can purchase absolution and thus no sin shall stain our souls when darkness falls."
The room is suitably dim, the speaker lit by a lone tallow candle as the one beside him seems shrouded in darkness. Seated in a comfortable chair, Warwick listens to the pair as they talk of treason and cruelties that shall bring them all that they wish; without so much as a care for those who are destroyed in their wake. Thanks be to Christ that it is but a play.
Looking at the crumpled papers in his lap, he squints to try and make out the words. The penmanship is dreadful, but sufficient, for it is a copy of the original work. There are, doubtless, errors in comparison to the original pages; and already there have been at least two missed entries because one of the copyists mistakenly omitted a line. He smirks to himself; it could not be more obvious that the two speakers are intended to represent the Lords Richmond and Wiltshire; for the elder is the Lord High Treasurer, and the younger the Lord Keeper of the King's Privy Seal - despite neither Despenser ever holding such offices when they lived.
The lines are, however, well written - and the author could not be accused of composing doggerel. That Strickland has dared to pen them is one thing; that Percy of Alnwick is so intent upon presenting them to the populace is quite another. Does Strickland know what shall happen to him if the play is presented? He shall be fortunate if all he loses is his hand; particularly if the scenes he has written between Isabella and Mortimer are witnessed by her Majesty the Queen Dowager. Or her daughter, for that matter.
He looks up as Percy plumps himself into the seat alongside him, "God above, Henry! Is this not magnificent? The common folk shall have their eyes truly opened, and the foreigner shall be consigned to the ocean to rot with the vile creatures that brought him here!"
Warwick holds his tongue: it cannot be denied the inferences within the presentation of the play have the subtlety of a sledgehammer, despite their being couched altogether more discreetly in the text; but nonetheless he feels a deep sense of discomfort in being present. That he is here at his father's behest is immaterial: this is sedition, and he is in the midst of it. God above, if they succeed, then all hell shall break loose; but if they do not, then he has no wish to be falsely accused when they are all called to account.
Wrapt in the action upon the small dais before them, Percy fails to note his silence, and seems so intent upon it that he even moves his lips alongside those of the actors as they declaim their lines. Jesu - he has memorised them…
Fortunately, the quality of the acting does not match the quality of the script they have been given, for all of them are young men of Percy's acquaintance. What company of players, after all, would be willing to risk their very lives for the sake of a play? There are times when the words spoken are acclaimed with such stiffness that the veneer of belief is pierced, and Percy regularly rises from his seat to berate them for such false-looking actions. There are, however, one or two among the group who seem to have at least a small measure of talent, and the scenes that they play hold an appeal to the listener that considerably unnerves Warwick. Fortunately, the sequences between Isabella and Mortimer do not lie within that group, for it is impossible to believe a torrid affair between them when one of them is a boy. Even though they do not intend to advise the Master of the Revels, Percy seems to think it wise not to provoke matters by placing a woman upon the stage.
As though the subject of the play is not provocation enough.
"Here it is, Henry. This is the crux of all." Percy prods his arm excitedly, as the youths upon the stage move to the next scene. To a man who has studied the histories of England's Kings, the action is bizarre, to say the least - for while the second Edward's reign ended in rebellion and his deposition, here the rebellion is to set him back upon his stolen throne, while those who conspired to steal it from him are punished with duly gruesome torments. Was Strickland mad when he wrote this? It could not be clearer that the sequence is entirely seditious, as 'Edward' - the supposed corpse of Mortimer upon the floor behind him turns to the small audience, sword in hand, "Disloyal Mortimer! Fell'd in perfidy and sin! For he would demand my England bound again to Rome. Why should a king be subject to a priest? Proud Rome! that hatchest such imperial grooms, For these thy superstitious taper−lights, Wherewith thy antichristian churches blaze, I'll fire thy crazed buildings, and enforce The papal towers to kiss the lowly ground! With slaughtered priests make Tiber's channel swell, And banks raised higher with their sepulchres! As for the peers, that back the clergy thus, If I be king, not one of them shall live. Thus sweet England is granted back to holy light, her good subjects by blood royal ruled. No papist heel upon their necks beset; all false counsel stilled. God's chosen Prince upon the throne shall sit, as he has ever willed."
"Yes!" Percy is upon his feet, applauding enthusiastically, "Most excellent! Now we shall find a company of men to play to the common folk, and they shall see the light as we have done! No more papist blasphemy!"
Rising slowly to his feet alongside, Warwick also applauds, though perhaps with half the enthusiasm, if not less. If the play had been of poor quality, or the acting pitiful, then he could dismiss it all as naught but a foolish fancy by a deluded youth.
Gracing his features with an enthusiastic smile, he turns to Percy, "Magnificent indeed, Thomas! Might I be permitted to retain these papers? I should like to study them. I assure you that I shall ensure they remain unseen by any who should not know of them."
Delighted in his interest, Percy nods, "Of course you may. Perhaps I might prevail upon you to participate? I have not, as yet, found any who might serve as Chorus."
"Alas, I must refuse, my friend. I have performed before others but the once; and my memory deserted me, thereby leaving me upon the stage in mute humiliation. I should destroy the spell utterly were I to do so again."
"Ah; a pity indeed. Nil desperandum, Thomas; we shall find our Chorus - and thus shall begin our great enterprise to wrest England back from the papists. Her Majesty shall be freed from her marital enslavement, while those who chained her shall hang before the people at Tyburn. We shall see it done!"
There is no madness in the young man's eyes - just the fire of blind enthusiasm and the foolishness of youth. Given time, perhaps that enthusiasm might turn elsewhere; but there is no time. A false smile still set upon his face, Warwick hastily departs.
Richmond's eyebrows are halfway to his receding hairline as he reads the account of the elder Despenser's demise, "I should be most intrigued as to how they would represent this upon a stage. I imagine it shall not be overly difficult to feign my supposed beheading; but I have no doubt that hacking my remains to pieces to be fed to the dogs shall be altogether more complicated an illusion to achieve."
"I should like to see that." Wiltshire grins at him, "Though I think the chances of the Master of the Revels permitting a man to be unclad upon a London stage so fleeting as to be invisible. That is, I believe, how my apparent character met his historical end: naked upon a ladder before the howling mob."
Only the most trusted of the Queen's Council are present, Cromwell, Wiltshire, Richmond and Northumberland. Though the others would not betray them, Anne is sure of it, only those who are present have proved their loyalty to a degree that she would permit them to discuss so sensitive a matter.
Philip is reading the script now, his eyes dismayed, "I seem to have been transformed into a snivelling wife; but her Majesty the Dowager has received a great disservice."
"In the eyes of some, I have not." Anne smiles at him, kindly, "There are not a few in England who - even after so many years - regard me as a Godless whore."
"How can that be?" Philip is clearly scandalised at such an accusation, "You have ever been the very model of Majesty!"
Then she laughs, softly, "Ah. I thought myself so, for I wore a crown and the royal purple, and my jewels were a wonder to behold. But I did not rule, nor did I understand the burdens of doing so. Moreover, another Queen had ruled before me, and done so with the love of her Subjects. When the King sought me for his wife, at first I was greatly dismayed, for my heart lay in another's keeping. That was not to be, however, and who can resist the will of a King? I may have learned to love what I became - but England could not forgive me. It has taken me many years to overcome such animosity, and I have not entirely succeeded even now. You knew me not when I was that woman - for I know now that she was arrogant and presumptuous, and I am quite convinced that, if the woman I am now met the woman I was then, I should be embarrassed."
Cromwell shifts awkwardly in his seat, "I think that would be so with all of us, Majesty." He reminds her, "Wisdom is a gift that is granted only by age - and even then not all are receptive to it."
"I think, however, that I should not have been as grotesque as this supposed 'she-wolf' Isabella." Anne adds, slightly ruefully, "I am, however, most surprised that I am considered a papist pawn."
Cromwell shakes his head, "We can amuse ourselves endlessly with this text; but his Grace of Warwick is concerned that there is a firm intention to stage this play. The youths who played it at Cumberland House were not fit to convince even a child with their posturing - but should sufficient reward be offered to a company of players, or disaffected individuals with skill at acting be persuaded to do so, he is convinced that they shall indeed stage it - though not in public."
"But where would they do so?" Unlike Warwick, Northumberland is also present, and has remained silent throughout as his fellow councillors considered the characters who represented them, "There is no space at Cumberland House of sufficient size; I have dined in the hall, and it could hold fewer than fifty if they were all to be seated."
"I was born a common man, my Lord." Cromwell advises, "I think it likely that men of Percy's esteem shall not wish to do so. They shall entertain men of at least aristocratic blood, and trust to them to raise the people - all afire with righteous indignation at those who conceal her Majesty in a cloak of misrule."
"Then we must counter it by accusing them of attempting to depose the Queen." Richmond insists, "They might claim that they do this for England, and for her Majesty; but who amongst them would not wish to be the power behind her throne?"
Philip nods, "But we must take care not to make martyrs of them. I cannot be the one to speak, for they despise all who remain of the Roman faith - and am I not viewed as the figurehead of her Majesty's catholic subjects?"
"His Majesty is right." Northumberland agrees, "Englishmen in the North would reject a call to arms against the King, for the religious upheavals of London rarely touch them. It is here, in London, that the danger is greatest, and thus it is best that your Majesty speak to them as their beloved Queen's mother."
He looks around the table at the approving nods of the small group, chief of which is the King, "I am in agreement with this policy. Regardless of my male state, I have sworn to uphold the right rule of the Realm, and that is in the hands of my precious wife. Thus, when she - and our son - emerge from her lying in, I am most keen to ensure that I present an England that is as whole as it was when she entered confinement."
"Then I shall do it." Anne agrees, though she does not comment upon his statement that the child shall be a son. All had assumed that Elizabeth would be a boy - and she had not been. Even now, the greatest desire is that the Tudor line shall have the first male heir since Henry was born. But if she does not, then their task shall be far, far harder to accomplish. Unless, of course, they can end the matter before the birth.
Given the risks involved, she hopes most fervently that they can.
A/N: Just a quick note regarding 'the play'. Most of the speeches from it in this chapter, and the next, are mine - but there's one that isn't. Edward's soliloquy as he stands over Mortimer's corpse was purloined from the 'real' Edward II play: The Troublesome Reign and Lamentable Death of Edward the Second, King of England, with the Tragical Fall of Proud Mortimer that was written in Elizabethan times (with the exception of the last two lines, which I added to adjust the context). The difference in style is likely to be something of a giveaway - as I nicked the golden prose of one Christopher Marlowe, whose Edward play is infinitely better written than mine; and - at least mostly - remains faithful to actual history. Apart from the red hot poker thing.