An Act Of Fate Chp7
Chapter 7: On The Edge Of A Golden World.
She heard the crowds before she saw them, Oh how many had come, it seemed almost fitting that there be so many now. At her coronation the streets had been all but deserted the only sound coming from that of the Royal parade, yet now…now the roars of the crowd were almost deafening and there was scarcely room to breathe.
Most of the noise was indistinguishable, a lot of muffled screams blurring together to form an almost empty sound that Anne couldn't quite describe. She could hear the occasional calls of 'whore' and 'witch', only few people wished her well ('God save your Majesty'). She took no notice of them, she wouldn't…no she couldn't allow herself to get caught up in the theatre of it all. She had to stay firm and strong, so that when they told Elizabeth of it, her daughter would be able to hear that her mother died a Queen in every way known to mankind.
She did not falter or cower as she walked the long path to the scaffold as so many others had before her, she approached her death with grace and dignity, and when Anne opened her mouth to speak the crowd fell silent immediately, and Anne thought, closing her eyes briefly, that she could have been back there on that glorious June day, glowing with her pregnancy and thinking that the whole world was at her fingertips.
"Good Christian people, I have come her to die according to the law and thus yield myself to the will of the king….my lord," Anne breathed deeply as her husband's image came to her mind, oh how she loved him, now still more than ever. They had shared a love so passionate that others could only dream of such emotion, Jane Seymour, she thought bitterly, would have to prey to every God she could think of to be blessed with half of the love Henry once gave her.
'I would only be unhappy if you ever stopped loving me,' Henry's reply to her declaration almost made her want to laugh, 'London would have to melt into the Thames first,' was London not still standing? Anne thought sarcastically, she saw no flames.
"And if ever in my life I did offend the Kings grace, then surely with my death I do now atone," Anne continued her voice not once depicting her true feelings, how darehe accuse her of such atrocities! Had she not found him only months before with that harlot on his knee? A sight she was convinced that had killed her son, her boy, her last chance.
She could feel the tears threatening to assault as she thought of her baby boy that had not had the chance to live, the child that was to create the golden world she had envisioned hers and Henrys union would bring. Her thoughts filtered from her lost son, to her beautiful daughter, Oh she would not trade Elizabeth for a thousand sons, and when the time came when Jane's weak pale boys surrounded her Elizabeth, Henry would see the mistake he had made, and she just knew it would haunt him till his last breath.
"I pray and beseech you all to pray for the life of the king, my sovereign lord and yours, who is one of the best princes on the face of the earth, and who has always treated me so well…."
He will tire of you like all the others
By God's grace boys will follow
You must shut your eyes and endure….like your betters have done before you
She is a bastard, and you are not my wife
You've lost my boy
"Wherefore I submit myself to death with a good will, humbly asking pardon of all the world," not from him, Anne thought bitterly, never again would she submit to Henry, it was only the Lady Mary she truly sought pardon from, for no one else truly deserved it.
"If anyone should take up my case, I ask them only to judge it kindly…." Slowly Anne motioned for her three ladies to come forth, all of whom were crying, she tried to catch their eyes as they helped remove her coat and jewellery, hoping that with a small smile she would be able to both relieve some of their grief and thank them for their kindness and devotion to her during her imprisonment.
The executioner knelt before her then, asking for her forgiveness and Anne could not help but feel touched by the kind display. She spoke one last time to the crowd, and it was now that the faces began to clear. She could see Archbishop Crammer, his face tear streaked and mournful, she could see her dear Thomas barley holding himself upright through his grief, and for some reason the Duke of Suffolk , instead of rejoicing in her demise, looked forlorn, little Edward was with him and the child's innocent tear filled eyes all but broke her heart.
"Thus I take my leave of the world and of you….and I heartily desire you all to pray for me," she knelt then, the last movement her body would ever make, the last act of submission to a husband that no longer wanted her, and finally Anne let the sorrow into her body, She would never see Elizabeth again, nor feel the warmth of Henry's touch.
"O Lord have mercy on me, to God I commend my soul, to Jesus Christ I commend my soul; Lord Jesus receive my soul," Anne had no idea how many times she repeated her prayer all she knew was that when she felt the executioners hand upon her head moving a strand of her off her face she was not expecting it, nor was she expecting the sight of the people bowing down before her. In her death it seemed she had finally made them love her.
" To Jesus Christ I commend my soul; Lord Jesus receive my soul," The words no longer held much meaning to her, it was a mere distraction now, but it was one done in vain, she could not help but glancing at the executioner, his sword was nowhere in sight.
"Boy fetch my sword," The shout made her look away, searching in vain for the boy he had called for, and for a moment her eyes once again found Edward Brandon's but it was not his face she saw, it was her face….Elizabeth, it was with her daughters image in her mind that Anne looked up at the flock of birds ascending into the sky, she neither felt nor heard the swinging of the sword.
"Elizabeth," Anne's voice shouted shrill and terrified, her eyes searching in the darkness for any source of light or life… it was a dream….she had to be dreaming, and yet she couldn't help but think, the feelings, the memories all of it had felt so real to her, she could recall every moment perfectly, the feel of that sword sending shivers down the spine of her already shaking body.
She was not dead, Anne reminded herself firmly, her son lived…her son…. "Argh…Oh God, No, not now not now….it's too early," Anne shouted hysterically as her bed filled with the sticky wet substance that let her know with absolute certainty that she was both alive and about to experience the most pain filled moments of her life….childbirth, there was no doubting it this time, her last chance was finally here.
Midnight, 18th of May 1536
Hampton Court
The court was alight; word of Anne's labour had spread like wildfire until every Duke to kitchen hand knew that the birth of England's heir was mere hours away. However the sight in the Kings' privy chamber was a stark contrast to the excitement raging throughout the walls of the royal palace.
When Madge Sheldon had barged into his room as he had been preparing himself for bed Henry had very much wanted to throttle her, and yet when the sweet words had spilled from her lips Henry had found himself embracing her tightly and demanding the presence of Anne's father, uncle and brother as well as the Duke of Suffolk immediately. That had been over five hours ago now, it was almost one in the morning, Henry thought bitterly, wondering how five short hours could seem to last a life time.
Madge had been giving him updates of Anne's progress every hour as he had instructed her to do, yet she was still yet to give him the news he had been long awaiting, and Henry was beginning to wonder if perhaps the labour was not traveling as smoothly as his former mistress was suggesting, and really had he been expecting anything else? The pregnancy had never been a smooth one and it should have come as no shock to him if things took a turn for the worse. Yet, he was surprised; perhaps he had never fully understood the seriousness of the situation, it was almost two months before Anne was due, and though he had knew for almost two months that this was going to occur, he hadn't truly prepared himself for the fact that the baby may not make it through unscathed if alive at all….that Anne may not make it through unscathed. In one night he could possibly lose the child he had waited ten years for, and the wife he once ripped apart a country to simply be with.
"Your Majesty….Henry," Charles' voice broke him out of his thoughts, they were halfway through a game of chess, neither man was playing for sport or competition, both of them moving the pieces around the board without a thought of tactic, Henry had never been more grateful of the man in front of him than he was now.
While Anne's male relatives had been rambling on about names, jousts and balls, confidently expressing Anne's strength and their confidence of a male heir in her belly, Charles had suggested a game of chess, taking Henry to a quiet corner of his chambers, if a conversation amounted between the two it would be of completely unimportant matters, although the man had firmly reprimanded Henry only two hours before, when his King had made the mistake of wondering aloud if he should call for Jane to occupy him while he waited. Charles had pointedly reminded Henry that if he were to do such a thing he would not only be taking Jane away from her post of helping Anne deliver his son, but also letting Anne know that while she were bringing their child into the world he was with another woman.
"I could lose them both Charles," Henry whispered, his voice chocking slightly, and Charles was for the first time in what felt like years reminded of the love, the fiery passion, that had once existed between the royal couple.
Charles didn't respond immediately, he honestly didn't know how to respond, what could he possibly say to put the man before him at ease, when he himself had never been in such a situation. Both Mary and Catherine had, had easy deliveries and although he knew what it was to lose a child, he and Mary having lost their oldest boy when he was just seven years of age, he couldn't comprehend how hard it must be for Henry who had lost countless children, and now faced the possibility of losing both child and wife, not merely his Queen and heir.
"The Queen is a living miracle," Charles said gently but firmly, "she is stronger than most women Henry,"
A living miracle, Henry rolled the words around in his mind; it was not the first time such words had been used to describe Anne, Linacre had used them not four months before when Anne had managed to hold onto their child, but even before that Anne had been subjected to such a title, had she not survived the sweating sickness when everyone had been ready to bury her? She had been all but dead and yet she had survived that, surely….surely she could survive this as well.
"I pray to God you are right Charles, for it is in his hands now…"
Queen of England's Apartments
The sounds coming from the Queen's apartments, the ear splitting screams, were more than enough to turn Jane Seymour off the thought of childbirth for an eternity. She thanked God that she had been all but thrown out of Anne's private sleeping chamber, for she held no desire to see the miracle of life any time in the near future.
She was, of course, not allowed to leave Anne's rooms, the look Nan Saville had given her when she had suggested the thought, had all but burnt her to a crisp. Instead Nan had given her the simple and most mundane task imaginable, she was to prepare the clothes that both the Queen and the babe were to be dressed in once this whole ordeal was over with.
Anne had requested that she be clad in purple and gold and the child in pure white, Jane had almost (openly) rolled her eyes at the request, only Anne could find reason to be vain in such a situation, it seemed to Jane that she cared more for what her and the child were to wear than their own survival.
Jane could not think of the babe as a male, she just could not bring herself to, in fact she had gone against her better judgement and prayed for a still birth or female child, but surely even God could not condemn her for such an action. Anne had caused death and pain for so many, it did not seem right to Jane that she could get away with such atrocities, God could not possibly want the harlot to bear a male child, a child which would bring England into the fires of hell for eternity. No, God wanted her to stay strong and unwavering, it was imperative that she pray for Anne's failure, the loss of one child, was nothing compared to what would occur if Anne gave the King a living son, England would be doomed if such an event were to occur, and although Jane did not want to admit it, she too would be doomed if Anne was to make good on her long awaited promise.
What would Henry possibly want with her if Anne delivered him a healthy heir, she would never be his Queen or his wife then, she would have no choice but to give into him, to become a common whore, whose children (if she were to have any) would be nothing more than bastards…the Kings bastards perhaps, possible Dukes and Duchess', but illegitimate ones at that…. they would never be seen as anything else.
Another hair raising scream tore through the two rooms, and Jane noticed Dr Linacre, who was not permitting himself entrance into the Queens bedchamber (for that was the business of woman) unless it was absolutely necessary, make his way over to the entrance of the bedchamber, where he spoke for some moments to a young midwife, before nodding his head seriously, and calling over Made Sheldon for what Jane felt was the thousandth time. Surely very little had changed since Madge's last update to the King, trust Anne, Jane thought bitterly, to turn an everyday experience into a commotion.
19th of May 1536
Bedchamber of Anne Queen of England
Anne had never been more thankful of Nan and her sister in law, than she was right at this moment, they were the only two of her ladies present in the too packed room, each of them on either side of her, and making no protest as she gripped their hands hard enough to leave bruises, as the pains of her labour started coming faster and faster.
She had been in labour for what felt like years. The bed sheets had been changed no less than four times, and Anne had screamed and cried so much that her voice was now no more than an empty hoarse. The pain had not been nearly this bad with Elizabeth, whose birth had been an easy stroll compared to the pain that was now cursing through her body each time she felt a contraction.
The head midwife, Mistress Nobly was, despite her plump physique and kind heart shaped face a strict no nonsense sort of a woman who seemed to have no trouble at all in telling Anne off as if she were some simpleton school girl.
Anne had called for Mary more than once in the past few hours, wanting her sisters comforting voice whispering in her ear more than anything else in the entire world, and when Anne realised that the possibility of that happening were near impossible, she had started demanding George's presence. To her credit Nan had run to the bedchamber door with her instructions, only to then be most severely told off by the older midwife for her insolence.
" It's almost time now Your Majesty," Mistress Nobly said her voice remaining stoic and calm, not letting any of her nerves show, to the screaming woman in front of her.
In her time as a midwife Catherine Nobly had birthed near one hundred babes, and she had seen more of them die than she had seen live to the end of their first week of life. The position she found herself in now was a stark contrast to any she had found herself in before, she was a common woman who dealt with other common women, it had never been her duty or her wish to deliver little princes or princess' into the world, for she had no care for the politics of royal births, in her most humble opinion a living daughter was most certainly better than a dead son. Yet her time serving Queen Anne over the last four months, had eventuated in her growing very fond of the younger woman, and so she had found herself breaking her own rules and praying for a son, not for the King, not for England, but for Anne, whose charm and wit, whose obvious love for her young daughter and unborn child, could warm even the hardest of hearts.
"You've said that three times," Anne snapped her voice hoarse and her tiredness getting the better of her.
Jane bit her lip to stop herself laughing at her sister in laws childish antics, deciding that it was probably not the most appropriate time to be teasing Anne, who looked as if she was one more push away from either collapsing in exhaustion or ripping poor Mistress Nobly's head off from the rest of her body.
" Come now Anne, you are doing so well just a little while longer," Jane soothed using her free hand to wipe a drop of sweat from Anne's brow in what she hoped was a comforting gesture.
"I hate this," Anne whined, as another sharp pain assaulted her body, but unlike the other times the pain did not subside, "and I hate Henry," Anne continued to grumble, trying to keep her mind off of her pain by talking through it, "and I hate you," She added looking at Mistress Nobly, who for her part remained as stoic and even tempered as ever.
"Madam, you will not hate anything or anyone when you have this little boy cradled in your arms," Mistress Nobly said firmly, but Anne could hint just the tiniest amount of amusement in her tone, "Now I need you to push for I can see the head, and what a fine crown of black hair he has,"
"You can see the head?" Anne questioned, all of her anger leaving her body as she realised how close she actually was to seeing her little baby.
"You can do this Your Majesty, "Nan comforted rubbing soothing circles on Anne's hand with her thumb, "Just a little longer,"
Anne could faintly hear the clock strike nine from the other room, she had been in labour thirteen hours, such a short time that had seemed to her only moments before to be days, Anne gave an almighty scream as she pushed again, all of the woman in the room surrounding her with bated breath, this was it, the moment of truth.
Dead or alive, Son or daughter, this was the moment the future of Anne, the future of England, was decided.
" Just a few more My lady," Mistress Nobly encouraged as Anne's body contracted over and over, bringing the baby further into the world each time she pushed, " One last push, Your Majesty, one more. "
One more chance, one more
Anne's stomach contracted as she gave one last almighty push, bringing the baby into the waiting arms of the midwife. Anne could hear the older woman delivering a stinging slap, and the high pitched wailing, that came directly afterwards.
A healthy pair of lungs, Anne thought pushing herself up on her pillows with what little strength she had left, to try and catch a glimpse of her child, she saw them cut the umbilical cord and quickly wrap the babe up in a warm woollen blanket before it was settled down in the midwifes arms.
Catherine had seen perhaps three infants smaller than the one now in her arms, but as she examined signs for deformities she found none, the babe had ten perfectly formed fingers and ten perfectly formed toes, and considering the circumstance of its birth, it was far more healthy and strong then what she had been expecting.
"What is it?' Anne questioned, ignoring Nan and Jane telling her to lie back down on her bed. After Elizabeth's birth no one had wanted to tell her the baby's sex and Anne was worried that no mention of the child's sex had been made for that very reason, "Tell me what it is," Anne demanded her voice rising into an almost hysterical pitch.
Not wanting to cause the Queen any additional harm than had already been experienced, Mistress Nobly approached the Queen's bedside the now clean infant resting in the crook of her arm, " Your Majesty has given birth to a very healthy baby boy," the woman exclaimed, a large smile lighting up her face, and every other in the room immediately as each of the ladies dropped into deep curtseys.
"A boy?" Anne repeated as if she could scarcely believe her ears, she had done it, she had fulfilled her duty, she had her son, and she could hardly believe it was true. For ten years she had imagined the fantasy of it, the birth of her baby boy, and not one of her fantasies had lived up to the happiness that was currently cursing through her system.
"Yes Your Majesty, a Prince of Wales for England,"
" And he's healthy?" Anne added, her eyes searching over the bundle that was her son, in the other woman's arms… he looked small.
"As healthy as any babe I have laid eyes on, perhaps he is a little small but that is nothing a few months of his mother's milk will not fix," the midwife soothed.
"Give him to me," Anne ordered her voice sounding as strong as it had in hours, "I want to hold my son."
"Your Majesty," Mistress Nobly said hesitantly making no move to hand over the screaming prince to his clearly exhausted mother, "are you sure you are strong enough, I don't…"
"Give me my son now!"
Clearly not wanting to argue with the Queen a moment longer, the older woman motioned towards Nan and Jane to begin making the Queen as comfortable as possible; before she gently placed the still wailing infant into his mother's eagerly awaiting arms.
The second he was placed in her arms Anne felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders, this child, this little miracle was her saviour, and nothing and no one would ever take him from her.
Blue met blue as Anne gazed into the face of her son; he was Henry through and through except for those eyes, which like Elizabeth's were the exact shade and shape of her own, he was all she had promised…..a son the living image of his father.
"He is beautiful Anne," Jane said from next to her, smiling down at her little nephew, who under his mother's touch had ceased crying.
"Yes, and the image of the King too," Nan added, trying and failing to discreetly wipe a tear from her eye.
"He's perfect," Anne murmured kissing the tiny mop of black hair, before breaking down in tears herslef. She was so scared that she was going to wake up, that this was somehow all a dream and she would wake up, on the scaffold, her baby boy dead and her husband ready to marry another.
But that was the dream, Anne reminded herself firmly, taking no notice of the conversation around her, as she stared intently at her cooing son, looking at her with bright eyes before reaching a tiny hand out towards her check, this was real, he was real.
The rooms of Henry King of England
Henry had not heard Cromwell enter his rooms, Madge Sheldon close on his heels, having fallen asleep some two hours before, it took a sharp kick to the shins from Charles for him to startle awake, the four other's occupying the room looking as if they were holding their breaths, clearly waiting desperately for the news the two newcomers brought.
"Well," Henry bit out, wanting them to bring their news, good or bad as quickly as possible.
Was it finally time?
Had Anne finally delivered?
Had something happened?
"Her Majesty has delivered, of a healthy son," Cromwell said smiling slightly, as the King stood from his chair in shock.
A healthy son, he had a healthy son, he had his heir.
"I have a son?" Henry questioned softly, small tears filling his eyes, both Cromwell and Madge nodded in response, "I have a son,"
"Yes Your Majesty, you have a son," Cromwell repeated.
Henry turned to the men around him, Charles' smiling form, and Anne's family members looking as if they had delivered the baby themselves.
She had done it, Anne had done all she promised to do, she had gave him the son he had been waiting a lifetime for, the legitimate heir she had sworn to deliver, and suddenly it once again all seemed worth it, just as it had when she had told him she was pregnant the first time. God had blessed their union with a miracle…. "The future King of England,"
"Charles," Henry called motioning his oldest friend towards him, "Have the bells rung at once, and see to it that the people are given free food and wine throughout the kingdom, " this was after all the peoples celebration as well, it was their future king.
"Yes Your Majesty," Charles said bowing, he hesitated momentarily before leaving, stoping right at the door, "Henry,"
"Yes Charles,"
"Congratulations," Henry nodded in thanks towards the other man as he left the room.
" Cromwell, I want every ambassador to know of this miracle, and George see to it that the Princess Elizabeth is made ready for a visit in a few hours' time," Henry ordered, " I shall see the Queen and the Prince now,"
He had a son.
Anne had let go of the baby only once since he had been placed in her arms, but her eyes had never left his perfect face. Her ladies had helped her wash, and dress herself in a nightgown of gold thread with a purple overcoat placed on top to keep her warm. Nan had braided her hair delicately tying it up with a purple ribbon, as she had watched her little boy dressed in one of the white garments she had made for him. After both Queen and Prince were dressed, the soiled bed sheets were changed into clean ones, and both mother and son were propped up on the pillows ready for visitors.
When Henry entered Anne's chambers, he took no notice of the ladies around him, he did not even send a well wish towards Jane, whom he noticed smiling hopefully up at him, all of his attention had to be on Anne and their son, he could think of nothing else.
He found them dazing lovingly at each other, Anne's little finger firmly clasped in the baby hand. It took a little while for her to notice he had entered, but when she did a bright smile formed on her face, and it was as if it were ten years ago, when he had first laid eyes upon her, her beauty captivating his very soul like no other had before.
" Henry," She said softly, her voice sounding croaky and tired, " would you like to meet your son?" she teased, and Henry laughed jovially, making his way over to her and placing himself on the side of her large bed.
He made no move to touch the baby at first, too scared to disturb him, too scared that he would wake up and find that it was all a dream. Instead he chose to lean over Anne curiously, and just admire his son from afar, but that all changed when the baby looked at him with Anne's beautiful blue eyes, making Henry feel as if he had no choice but to lean a hand down and rub the side of his son's tiny head.
When the child didn't disappear at his touch, Henry smiled broadly, never wanting the moment to end. "He's a sight to behold," Henry mused not really talking to anyone in particular.
"He is Your Majesty," Mistress Nobly said from her seat near the slowly flickering fire place, at the other end of the bedchamber, "and very strong, as well, just look at that grip. "
"May I hold him sweetheart?" Henry questioned, he didn't want to disturb either Anne or the baby in anyway, but he felt a desperate need to hold the little boy in his arms.
Anne nodded, before reluctantly handing the baby into his father's waiting arms, before trying to stifle a yawn.
"You're tired darling," Henry stated, kissing the baby's head softly, as he looked down at his exhausted wife.
"You try bringing a baby into the world for thirteen hours and see how you fare," Anne quipped with an easy smile, and Henry could do nothing but laugh at the truth in her words.
Knowing that Anne would object to the prospect of a little rest, Henry decided to lie down in the bed next to her, giving her back the baby, and wrapping his arms around her in a loving embrace.
"What shall we name him my love," Henry questioned, they had not really discussed baby names since before Elizabeth's birth, "I know we had thought of Edward or Henry,"
"I don't like Edward," Anne stated firmly, and Henry smiled down at her, it was an unlucky name for Kings anyway.
"How about Henry?" He questioned, the boy did look remarkably like him, the resemblance was almost uncanny, but Anne scrunched up her nose at that idea as well.
" You're Henry," Anne explained, " He should have his own name," but really Anne knew deep down that, that was not the true reason for her dislike of the name for her new son. She had been set on Henry before, now it just did not seem right, as much as she loved her husband, at that moment she had no desire to name her precious little boy after the man that had hurt her so much.
" I don't see you offering any suggestions Anne," Henry teased, going through a list of names in his head, Arthur was strictly out of the question, perhaps Anne would want to name him Thomas of George, Charles was a fine strong name, as was Edmund and….
"William," Anne said finally, "he should be William."
Looking down at his young son, Henry could find no objection with the name.
Prince William
Williams Prince of Wales, Duke of Cornwell
Little Prince Will
King William the Third
It fit him well.
"William it is my love, "Henry agreed, and the baby cooed slightly as he spoke.
"Our Prince William, "Anne said kissing the baby's head for what she was sure was the hundredth time that hour.
" I can never thank-you enough for this Anne," Henry said, brushing a hand over his wife's delicate neck your neck, I love your neck, before pulling her face into his and kissing her passionately.
All was well. Everything was as it should be.
Seymour Apartments
He had not even looked at her; he had walked straight past her and right into the embrace of that wench and her brat. He had not looked at her.
Jane would never be Queen now, her brothers had already instructed her in what she must do next, she was to become his mistress, his every thought and every breathe, because surely his returned affection for Anne would not last long, a son may have granted her the crown until the day she died, but it did not guarantee her the kings love.
Jane had lost.
Anne had won and she had lost, how had God allowed such a travesty to occur?
How could Anne continue to live and be happy, when sweet Queen Katherine had died alone and in poverty because of Anne's actions?
How could Anne's children bare the right to call themselves Prince and Princess, when Princess Mary, the Kings rightful and only heir, was made a basted, forced to serve as her illegitimate half-sister's maid?
How could she, who played the exact same game as Anne, receive such a different outcome, why was it that Jane would be forced to endure the slippery world of a Kings mistress (if he were to have her at all that was) while Anne was able to wear the Queen's crown? A crown that should have been hers….not that whores.
When Henry had first offered to serve her, Jane had not envisioned it to turn out like this; she had envisioned greatness, a marriage and a prince. She had pictured Anne's failure not her success, yet here she was, defeated and alone.
Yet the King did still care for her, of that much she knew for certain, perhaps all would not be lost if she managed to keep Henry's fickle love in her grasp, if she had his love than he was hers, it would be her that he spent his time with, her that he consulted with and listened to, not Anne, she would be a powerful force, her family rising above even the Boleyn's, it would be her favour everyone would want. No, all was not lost.
Anne may have the King's son, but Jane, Jane had the Kings love.
Queen of England's rooms
When Elizabeth came to visit her, Anne was all but asleep, Henry had reluctantly left a little over a half an hour beforehand when William had fallen asleep in her arms. He had jousts to organise and letters to write, but he assured her that he would be back soon, and asked if she would like him to send Elizabeth in during his absence. Never one to want to miss time with her darling little girl, Anne had been more than eager to agree.
" You may leave us Lady Bryan," Anne said tiredly, once the governess had left, Elizabeth all but ran unto her mother's bed, asking so many questions Anne could not decipher one of them. "Elizabeth darling slow down,"
"Where's my baby brother Mama?" Elizabeth asked looking around curiously, when she did not see him immediately, she resorted to looking under the covers, it was nice and warm under them, and maybe her baby brother was down there.
" Elizabeth, my sweet," Anne said laughing, to which Elizabeth looked at her with a stern look, " Your baby brother is here," Anne explained motioning to the crib, standing next to her bed.
"He's asleep," Elizabeth said sounding disappointed, as she stood up on the bed and looked down at her little brother with a scrunched up face, " And he's really small,"
"That's because he's all new my darling," Anne explained contently looking at her two children; she did not think there was a more perfect sight in the entire world.
"I thought he was going to play with me…" Elizabeth said crossly, and Anne couldn't help but laugh lightly, her little girl never ceased to amuse her.
"He will," Anne said gently, "when he's a little older,"
"Oh," Elizabeth replied, lying back down on the bed and snuggling into her mother's chest, "Mama?"
"Yes darling?"
"What's his name? Lady Bryan wouldn't tell me," Elizabeth asked clearly quite cross that she had been refused such a vital piece of information, even though she had asked Lady Bryan ten times, and each time the mean old governess had said she would have to wait and see.
"William," Anne said, loving the name more and more each time she said it.
"William," Elizabeth said rolling the name off her tongue, "I like that."
"I am glad my darling," Anne responded.
She liked it to.
Elizabeth and William, she had birthed the future of the Tudor Dynasty, the birth of a golden age.
London
"To Prince William," Gerard Blackwell's voice bellowed, the strong husky sound drowning out every other murmur in the too crowded tavern.
"Aye," called the voice of the tavern's owner, Mister Robert Harding, whose family had owned the small space for some fifty-one years, "long live the Prince,"
Robert's father had brought the tavern a mere day after the coronation of the late King Henry, and it was justly named the Tudor Rose for that very reason. Over its existence the tavern had become a place of order and regularity, a place for the common people to meet and converse, to gossip about the goings on of the town, their work, and of course the news from court.
Robert had grown accustomed to it all, he prided himself on knowing every man's face and life story that entered his place, for a cool drink after a long day's work, and yet today he found himself unable to recognise half of the faces, packed into the tavern.
it was packed so full, that there was hardly room for the patrons to breathe yet alone move, every chair, stool and table was full, every corner of the room was occupied, and Robert knew he was about a half an hour away from announcing that the ale was gone…a concept that could very much start a brawl in such a crowd.
The talk off every man's lips was the same; Queen Anne had given birth to a healthy little Prince, that the royal couple had dubbed William, the long awaited heir to the English throne had finally been borne, and that was why Robert knew that not one man would leave his tavern in search for another anytime soon, because every place throughout the country would be much the same, with every man woman and child relishing in the delight of the birth of the future King.
Almost every man, woman and child, Robert thought, his mind thinking of the poor Lady Mary, and her supporters, who would no doubt be cursing Queen Anne and her little Prince.
And while Robert did feel sorry for the young lass, he did not think it his place to speak of such matters, King Henry had been a just and kind ruler, just as his father had been, and despite the unpopularity of the Queen, her little Prince would be welcomed by the people with open arms, for they just as much as the King had been waiting for this day with baited breath.
"To Prince William and Princess Elizabeth," The sound of one patron called.
"To King Henry," Cried another.
Robert did not know what made him do it, but suddenly it was as if his mouth had a mind of its own, "To Queen Anne," The response he received was deafening, every man, who had once labelled the Queen, the 'King's Concubine and whore', where screaming her name in love, praying for her good health, and the birth of many more little heirs.