1540, Rochester Abbey

New Year's Day

A messenger approached me as I watched the bull-baiting down below. I flinched, as did my ladies and gentlewomen, as we realized he was not alone. All of the men wore hoods and mottled cloaks so that we could not discern who they were. The man in the lead, as far as I could tell, was obese. "Hello, good sirs," I said in my choppy English, then flinched as the leading man pressed his lips to mine. He embraced me firmly. I yanked myself from his grasp, for this was only for a husband to do.

He, to my surprise, bristled as if confused. Then he pressed a token into my hand. "Thank you," I said politely. My heart was racing. I'd never felt a man's touch- and I had not enjoyed it, nor should I. I was to wed King Henry VIII. I turned away from him with disinterest to watch the bullfighting. "Happy New Years, milady," the man declared. "Hm," I said. I did not want to interact with this fat man who had kissed a taken woman. He carried on talking stiffly until at last he left, and I was greatly relieved.

Minutes later, this man returned, now dressed in a fine coat of purple velvet. "It is I, King Henry," he said, and took my hand to his lips to kiss. The first emotion that struck me was dismay, for I'd expected the slim young King depicted in Hans Holbein's portrait. I'd been looking forward to meeting this handsome and gallant man his reputation suggested. I was not prepared for an old, obese King. His waist and stomach were wide, and his face was drawn and wrinkled.

He also smelled, for he had a terrible leg ulcer. And I was not impressed by his disguise and prank, for it was rude and childish. But I swallowed my feelings. This was my King now, my husband, and I was determined to be a good wife. I would not have his wrath shatter my world as it had Catherine of Aragon's. I would not commit crimes that led me to the scaffold as Anne Boleyn had. No, I would obey, and I would survive.

"I am so sorry, my noble King," I said. Had I already made an unforgivable mistake in rejecting him? But I hadn't known it was him; how could I have? "I am unworthy." I dipped low in a curtsey. "No, it is fine." He placed a strong hand on my shoulder, and I felt a shiver of intimidation, for this man was taller than I, beyond six feet, and so large he cast a broad shadow across the floor, and he was twenty-four years my senior. He saluted me lovingly, but his eyes narrowed and his nose wrinkled. I had not yet conformed to the English fashions. Was I unbecoming to him in my thick German gown?

I swallowed my sigh, for it seemed I would not be as joyous as I had hoped.

1540, Greenwich Palace

January 6

Henry was displeased with me, but kept a polite front about himself. I did not understand his behavior. What had I done wrong?

Well, it was too late for him to wriggle free now. Our wedding ceremony was being conducted by Thomas Cranmer, the Archbishop of Canterbury, who also gave me away. I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my face when I saw the guests- English nobles and courtiers, all watching me.

I must appeal to their sense of beauty now, right? I was dressed in a gown of rich golden cloth set full of large flowers and great pearls. It was made after the Dutch fashion. My fair yellow hair was long and hanging down my back as betokened a virgin Queen. A coronet of gold and stones and rosemary branches sat on my head, and about my neck and middle were valuable jewels.

Henry himself wore a gown of golden cloth with silver flowers and black genets. His coat was crimson satin cut and embroidered neatly with diamonds, and a rich collar around his thick neck. His clothing was splendid, to be certain... but that double chin, the thinning red-gold hair, the fat ruddy cheeks and wide-set frame without muscle...

I curtsied three times to Henry, and then we exchanged vows and rings. I was numb to everything, but I admired my wedding ring, engraved with the words "God send me well to keep". And keep me Henry must, I thought, for the alliance's sake.

After our grand ceremony, we went into the King's closet for mass and tapers. Wine and spices and a grand banquet were held in my honor, but it was all unenjoyable, for the nobles' disapproving stares made me feel like a smudge of dirt on their finely decorated walls, and though Henry gave throaty laughs and feigned contentment, I knew he liked me no better.

And I could see Henry's eyes resting elsewhere. I followed his gaze to my pretty young lady in waiting, Katheryn Howard.

Better her than me, my brain whispered, though I tried desperately to push the thought away.

1541, Richmond Palace

November

I was divorced. I had not kept Henry's love- or ever possessed it, save for when he had not seen me in real life- and yet I had won the game. I had survived, and with riches and a lovely settlement. I was even known as the King's "dearest sister".

But someone else had not.

Katheryn Howard may have taken my husband, but if not her, someone else would have, and besides, it hadn't saddened me too deeply. A good but naive girl had been arrested for adultery and treason. I pictured her pretty head severed from her neck, and shook my head in horror. That generous girl had given me jewels and dogs and friendship. In her marriage to Henry, she'd even given me freedom. And now...

If not her, would I be in her place?

I had been involved in the negotiations surrounding Henry's marriage, I realized suddenly, and consented to the annulment of ours. I wrote to Henry fervently expressing my loyalty and gratitude, pleading for him to shield me from false accusations. I had been good and virtuous, save for my secret thoughts of marriage and Katheryn and the little things that plagued all people.

Later

Henry had written back, promising he would always regard me as his dearest sister. I could have cried in relief- not just for my own safety, but because Henry still possessed some goodness. After our divorce, things between us had been tense... temporarily. Then we united as educated nobles, and I began to see a smarter, better side of him. And even if he sent Katheryn Howard to the grave, it must be justified. There would be no blemish on my soul or my life. He'd protect me, for better or for worse.

1547, Hever Castle

January 28

I stared down at the letter in my hands, deeply saddened. For my former husband was dead. Thomas Wriothesley had informed me of his passing. Though he had not always been a good man- I knew this better than most, as I had been a victim of his whims and desire for beautiful women to claim as his own- he had been a scholar, a visionary, and I would grieve for him.

1557, Chelsea Old Manor

July 16

I was at peace.

I had outlived Henry VIII and all his wives. I had been a friend to many. I had never borne children or married, and a felt a pang of regret. I had never had the motherly urges of some women, nor had I desired anything regarding a man's touch beyond lying chastely beside him as I had with Henry... and even then I'd found it unsettling.

Nevertheless, I'd done much with my life. And now I was to die. I could feel it as I rested in luxury, pondering all the good relationships with Henry's children and others that I had developed over the course of my life... picturing a future in Heaven, perhaps with Katheryn Howard. I still felt haunted as I thought of her. It would do me good to see her once more.

I felt distinctly ill, with a throbbing stomach and a piercing pain about my ribs.

Servants and friends circled my bed, greatly concerned. Catherine Brandon especially. I was pleased with myself for leaving her rings in my will; hopefully she'd understand all the good will I bore her.

I was fading. As I fell into the light, I felt no strong emotions, not quite, just a feeling of freedom. And then I saw them: five glowing figures ahead of me in crowns...