Daughter of Time

May 1536

Hatfield Palace

"Lord Suffolk is here." I hear Joan Howard shrieking as she runs through the corridors of Hatfield.
At once, the house rises like a wave, at the news of this unexpected visitor. Lady Shelton, who has been in the presence chamber with me, drops what she is doing and hurries to the looking glass to adjust her French hood, before she rushes downstairs to greet the Kings former brother in law, followed by myself and a handful of other ladies.
"My Lord Suffolk." She greets him with a breathless curtsy. "Forgive me; I was not informed of your visit."
"This visit is an impromptu one madam." He says in a manner, which seems almost stern.
He indicates to a bearded red-haired stocky man, dressed like a clerk stood at his side. "This gentleman is Sir Richard Rich. Please oblige me by speaking with him in private. I myself am here to speak with the Lady Mary."
"Well by chance Your Grace, the Lady is here". She turns to me and ushers me forward. "Lady Mary, His Grace, wishes a word." But in my ear, she quietly hisses, "And see you mind your tongue."
She indicates to Sir Richard to follow her. As she leads him away, I hear her say, "We are expecting the Earl of Wiltshire within the day Sir, is he not among your entourage?"
"No madam," comes the faint reply as the go further down the hall. "The Earl will not be returning to Hatfield."
I shoot a look of bewilderment at the Duke. He indicates for me to go to the gallery, at the side of the house.
"Your Grace, what is it? What has happened?"
He checks the empty gallery, then the hall, and closes the door before turning to me. "The Queen has been arrested."
This news shocks me, though it has not made forget the true proprieties "The Queen? The only Queen...." I begin, intending to protest at his continuing referrals to that Boleyn creature as the Queen.
He closes his eyes in frustration and holds his hand up to silence me.
"Lady Mary, Please, listen to me. She was arrested yesterday afternoon by the forces of the crown, and committed to The Tower."
My heart pounding against my chest. "On what charge?" I murmur, almost breathless as Lady Shelton was when the Duke arrived.
"Treason." He reveals, the capital of crimes. "Adultery, and plotting the Kings' death."
I gasp in shock, but there is little time to say more for the Duke ushers me to a side.
"There were further charges against her. Namely the poisoning of your mother, and the intent of poisoning yourself."
I have come over shaky. No one believed me when I said that the witch wished me dead, and would bring my end nearer by sinister means if she could have done so. Now she exposed! At last, and charged with crimes, that for any other wretch would mean certain death. Praise God. Her days could well be numbered.  I am reminded of the child she is carrying. Surely, the King would not imprison a woman, no matter how evil, if she were carrying his child.
"And what of her child?" I ask I hushed whisper.
"Stillborn," The Duke says with no trace of feeling. "A son. Born dead on the very day of your mothers' funeral."
A sign from God if ever there was one I think silently, ashamed at the immediate thought sprung in my head. For all my hatred of her, I wished no harm to her child. The poor thing was innocent of his mothers' crimes.
"Lady Shelton is to be taken to the Tower to wait on her," He continues. "But you must do nothing to antagonise Sir John. He is to be left in charge of the house, nor give rise to provocation that could cause trouble against you. After all, she is not yet found guilty."
"But she will be, surely?" I demand of him. Fear seeping into my mind that she may yet, somehow wriggle out of her charges, and return to the Kings side. "Please, Your Grace; tell me that she cannot escape justice."
He checks our space again and leans in closer to me.
"I doubt that she will emerge from her prison," he reveals. A small smile forming in the corners of his mouth, evidently taking delight in her downfall. "She has no friends, nor supporters left. Her position has been in peril for some time. The King has lately been pursuing another woman of her service, A Jane Seymour of Wiltshire and it is whispered that he would marry her. She is a friend to your cause." He is quick to add as the fear of another woman in my father's life swipes the smile from my face. "She is of the true faith. I do truly believe that she will be a friend to you."
The Duke continues to whisper to me, but I hear nothing. All I can feel is a mixture of apprehension for this Jane Seymour, blended with a wonderful rush of exaltation. It allows me a feeling I have not felt in a long time: hope. Hope that soon this world may be rid of Anne Boleyn and all her heretical supporters for good. Please God, let it be so. If my father should marry this Seymour woman and she truly is of the true faith and a friend to me, I will be as good and obedient to her as I would to the King himself.

With the news of the harlots' arrest, Hatfield has lost its seeming order and has descended into a multitude of chaos and indiscipline.
Lady Shelton, the once proud aunt of "Queen Anne", has begrudgingly left Hatfield under orders to wait on her disgraced niece in The Tower, whilst her husband Sir John, and Lady Bryan have been left in joint charge of the household until her return.
Both are kinder to me without the termagant Lady Shelton about. They do not force me to remain in Elizabeth's company, nor do they try to force me to curtsy to the child when she staggers past on her chubby little infant feet, that she is quickly learning to master.
A dozen or so attendants have left the house already, including two of Elizabeth's women, and I find, for the first time in three years, I am allowed the freedom to do as I please.
The harlot has been charged with treason, adultery, and even of committing incest with her own brother, Rochford. Even this sin, heinous and unthinkable as it is, I do not doubt. I do not dare contemplate the depths of that woman's depravity, knowing all that she has done to make my mother suffer and her efforts to destroy the true religion.
The charges against her for the poisoning of my mother, and my attempted poisoning, emerge as having no credible evidence to back them up, and are withdrawn. Nevertheless, no matter what the law can prove, I am convinced there is truth in them and believe if God had allowed her a few more years in power, I could well have found myself in an early grave. I am certain she would have put me to death, and that my mother untimely end was constructed on her orders.
I owe God a great deal. He has spared me from the clutches of that poisoning witch. My greatest sorrow is that my mother was not so fortunate. Justice will be done to her, it must be, I cannot see how such crimes could ever be pardoned, and the witches' blood must be spilt.
I have prayed every morning, afternoon, and evening for this eventuality, as I am praying now, alone in the chapel at Hatfield. "Please Lord Deliver us from the clutches of this accursed woman and free England from its bondage of Lutheran heresies and abominations that she has committed."
"Lady Mary," Lady Clere calls to me from the chapels door way. "Sir John has called the household into the great hall. You must come at once."
I do not object to the orders insisted of me, but I dutifully finish my prayers, before following Lady Clere to the great hall where the household is fully assembled. I note, with a slight degree of satisfaction, that they have, once again, had to wait for me to arrive.
Sir John does not rebuke me for keeping the household waiting. He merely flickers a glance in my direction, quite disinterested, and turns to address the household.
"The Queen was tried yesterday in Westminster Hall. She denied the charges brought against her, however the Lords of the Council have nevertheless found her guilty and she has been condemned to be burned or beheaded, according to the Kings pleasure."
My heart skips a beat, she is to die! Praise be to God, she will die. England will be free of her. Thank you blessed and most merciful Lord for our deliverance.
"Moreover," Sir John continues solemnly. "The council has decreed that her union with the King has been found to be invalid on the grounds of forbidden affinity. Thus she cannot ever have legally been Queen of England, and is to be known to all as the Lady Anne Boleyn.  Such a ruling also means that lawful issue could ever have been born of her union. The Princess Elizabeth therefore is to no longer be addressed or known as Princess but Her Grace, The Lady Elizabeth."
The remaining ladies of the household look at each other as though they disapprove of such a ruling, but one stern look from Sir John has them scuttling back to their work, whispering against the treatment of their infant mistress.
Of course it is only right that she no longer be known as Princess. The title was never lawfully hers. But at least she will have the comfort of never knowing the pains that come with such a change in status as I have for she is much too young.
I wonder that Sir John has not mentioned what changes are affect me. Have there been summons for me to return to court or to Richmond. I remain in my position. The last one of the household, waiting for Sir John to advise me. I am certain that he would wish to tell me that the King wishes for me to pack my things immediately and that my enslavement at Hatfield is at an end now that the witch is to die and can no longer place evil thoughts about me into his head. However he does not speak, though I hold his gaze for some seconds. Instead he looks down and walks away from me.
I am still in the hall some minutes later, in the same position, still awaiting orders to remove to my own property, which I am certain must come, when Lady Bryan appears before me.
"Your Grace, there is a Lady Kingston here to see you?"
The name is quite unfamiliar. "Did she say what she wanted with me?"
"She asked for the Lady Mary and that it was a personal matter, if you would be so good as to receive her. I believe she has come from London, My Lady."
I do not want to move. I am certain that the royal commands to leave Hatfield must soon come, but I remember the role of Princess means that I must be accommodating with my time and Sir John will doubtless look for me when the royal commands come. "Very well. But if Sir John should wish to find me, would you be sure to let him know where I am".
"Of course, Your Grace," she says, seeming puzzled as to why I would be expecting Sir John to be searching for me. I do not tell her, for if I have learned one thing during the three years I have been here, it is to keep my own counsel.
The Lady Kingston awaiting me is a short middle-aged woman, dressed in a dark red gown, cut in the English style, with a matching English hood. She drops into a deep curtsy as I enter the room. "Lady Kingston, I believe?" I ask her, motioning for her to sit, the behaviours and courtesies of a princess come flooding back to me, as though my status had never been downgraded to a position unbecoming of me.
"Yes, My Lady. My husband is Sir John Kingston, the Lord Lieutenant of the Tower."
I am puzzled. What can this woman want with me? "I see."
"As Your Grace is no doubt aware, the Lady Anne Boleyn is in the Tower under my husbands' custody, condemned to die. I am the Lady's senior warden. She knows that she has not long to live, and has requested me to come here and to kneel before you to beg Your Grace to pardon the woman who has caused you so many pains."
I am incredulous. "She seeks my forgiveness." I stop myself. "Now after so many years". Of course she must fear for her soul and fires of hell which are sure to await her. No doubt every man, woman, and child in England and the lands across the seas know of the infamous witch Anne Boleyn, and the evil, heretical and sinful deeds she has perpetrated during her seven-year bewitchment of my father.
She has brought despair and calamity on those opposed her, and my sainted mother lost her life on the harlots' orders. I could well have been her next victim had God not spared me from such a fate. But I cannot forgive her, I know I cannot, though I know it is Gods wish for us to pardon those who trespass against us. I believe completely that in the case of that woman, no prayers or forgiveness can save her soul from the fires.
"You may tell the Lady Anne, that I know it pleases God to do good to ones enemy, and pardon those that have wronged us." The irony that I use the words she once used to try to frighten me into submission is not lost on me. "So I shall pray that He will give me the grace to do His bidding, and at the hour of her death, I will pray God may show mercy on her soul."
Lady Kingston seems satisfied by my reply and as she makes to go, I hold her back. I have my own request to make of her.
"Lady Kingston, The Lady Anne has given you a commission, and you have executed it with fairness and honesty, which makes me think you are an honourable woman."
"If I make a promise My Lady, I will honour it to the best of my ability's."
"Then might I ask, that when the lady is dead, and your duty to her discharged, that you bring me an account of her end?"
She bobs a curtsey. "I shall My Lady, I promise."

I learn of Anne's Boleyn's death two days after it is done, and four days after the execution of her lovers from Lady Kingston, who keeps to her word and assures me that the great concubine is at last in hell.
However, I do detect a change in the gaoler. Before, when she spoke of that woman, there was an undercurrent of contempt, but now her tone is neutral, respectful even. Lady Kingston tells me that she died well and the King even permitted her to have a French swordsman take off her head, rather than have her die by the axe. It seems even in death, that witch would have the very best.
I say nothing to Lady Kingston about my true feelings, but as she tells me of the final moments of the harlots' death, and the immediate aftermath, the relief that washes over me, turns the corners of my mouth to a smile, which I force myself to suppress from growing bigger