Farewell to thee, my lady

a short story about Anne Boleyn. I wrote this a while ago

FAREWELL TO THEE, MY LADY

My mistress has been put to death, beheaded at the Tower of London.

They came for her on a Tuesday in the fair month of May. My Lady was arrested, accused of crimes she did not, could not commit.

At her first glimpse of the Tower of London My Lady knew it was all over. She began to scream; such a heart rending sound, it fair chilled the blood.

My Lady was led to the White Tower, its square towers standing tall on the west side, a round tower and the chapel of St Peter on the east.

“I was welcomed with tumultuous celebrations the last time I was here” she sobbed, attempting to regain an air of composure befitting a lady of her high position.

****

On her previous visit to the tower, three years earlier, my mistress was greeted by trumpeters playing joyful fanfares, volley after volley of gunfire, and four miles of colourfully decorated boats and barges. Such pageantry, such extravagance, a celebration to end all celebrations. This time there was silence; no fanfares, no guns, only the ‘cronk’ of a solitary raven up on the battlements.

“Take solace, My Lady” the Constable of the Tower sought to reassure her. “You will not be housed in the dungeons like a common felon, but in the Royal Lodging wherein you resided previously.”

“It is too good for me!” My Lady sobbed, sinking to her knees.

A more pitiful creature you never did see, kneeling on the cold stone floor, not sobbing now, but laughing hysterically. So far removed from the regal lady she had been a few hours before. We succeeded in getting her through the gateway, only for her to collapse anew on the far side. My Lady had to be supported for the rest of the journey to her chambers, praying the whole way for God to hear her pleas. Professing her innocence of the dreadful sins of which she had been accused.

She, who had sewn clothes for the poor with her own hands, she, who had placed an English translation of the Bible in her chambers for those of us with no knowledge of Latin or French, that we might study the scriptures at our leisure. Such a woman would never fall from God’s grace in such a sorrowful manner.

****

There were four of us ladies-in-waiting in attendance throughout this troubled time. We were with My Lady both night and day; I shared her chamber at night time. We were instructed to write down everything My Lady said, and report it to the constable, no matter how crazy or intimate. I think they were waiting for her to incriminate herself. My Lady was not happy with the situation; she called us her ‘wardresses’.

Each mealtime the constable arrived to eat with My Lady. Sometimes she was quite cheery, eating heartily and making witty conversation, as she used to at court. Alternately there were bouts of weeping when My Lady would leave her meals untouched, spending hours, days sometimes, prostrated on her bed, too distraught to stir, not even to be clothed.

****

Terrible things were said of My Lady. There were rumours of the most despicable nature circulating around court. All it takes is for someone to plant the seed of an idea and that seed grows into a vine that spreads and entangles wherever it can take hold. My Lady, they said, had been having adulterous affairs with noble gentlemen and lesser men alike. Even, it was rumoured, with her own brother. To think that such a noble creature would sin in such a shameful way.

Anyone who was linked to My Lady on the gossip vine was arrested and questioned. But surely it could not be true. My Lady loved her husband truly. Did she not wait eight years for him to be free to marry her?

A courtier was arrested and accused of paying court to her; but his only intention in visiting My Lady’s chambers, was to see Madge Shelton, on of the ladies "in-waiting. Then a young musician, with a talent for playing the organ and the virginal, was accused of being her lover. The way he was lured away from court and arrested, before being put to the rack and tortured until he confessed to the relationship. And My Lady’s own brother was arrested on charges of incest, arising from their being so often alone in her chambers.

****

How can an innocent person be accused of a crime, despite being absent at the time of the offence? My Lady was in confinement at the time these crimes were supposed to have occurred, in her chambers, awaiting the birth of her daughter. And that was the reason for her downfall, My Lady failed to produce a son and heir for her husband. So he looked else where, and put his wife away from him, until such a time as the marriage could be ended.

Four other men were condemned to die for crimes of adultery. Such barbaric deaths; to be hung and cut down while alive; to be disembowelled, castrated and then quartered. What possesses a man to order such brutality? The Bible tells us; do not repay evil for evil. It teaches us to overcome evil with good, not to be overcome with evil ourselves.

But should we take the life of another because they have committed an ill deed? Maybe, maybe not. If so, where does one stop? Do we go on killing each other in turn, until our lives become a perpetual war, nation against nation? It seems that those in power would have it so.

****

My Lady and her brother were taken to trial at separate times. A crowd of two thousand spectators had gathered to bear witness, accommodated upon wooden stands, purpose built for the occasion. My Lady was calm as she stood before them with dignity. Her answers to their questions were wise and discreet, upholding her innocence. Her emotional struggles, the weeping and hysteria, had brought her to the conclusion that there was no purpose in struggling against her fate.

My Lord was not present; he appointed a representative to speak for him. He believed that his wife was cursed, because she bore a third thumb. But twas only a wee thing, no more than an extra nail. It was said that his Lordship had been bewitched by his wife with potions and spells, aided by the Enemy of Mankind, the Devil himself.

My Lady could not carry a boy child; she had a miscarriage, and another son was stillborn. Evidence had been given by her own sister-in-law that she thought her husband might be impotent, that he was incapable of siring a male child.

“He can not satisfy a woman!” My Lady was quoted as saying. “He has neither the skill, nor the virility!”

They also claimed that My Lady was plotting to have her husband killed.

Her own brother was sentenced to death for incest, for having carnal knowledge of his sister. How could anyone believe this was so? Burning at the stake was the penalty for both brother and sister; a savage punishment for crimes which were never proved. Only the King himself could commute the death sentence to beheading, which thankfully he did, and for those other unfortunate men also.

****

In her final days My Lady’s behaviour was erratic; she was by turns very merry or in floods of tears. Sometimes she longed to die, or else she begged to be allowed to enter a nunnery and spend her days in prayer.

A swordsman was summoned from France; a swifter execution could be carried out by the sword than by the axe.

In one of her lighter moods My Lady remarked,

“I hear the executioner is very good. Just as well I have such a little neck!”

Then she placed both hands around her neck and laughed heartily at her witticism. She seemed to find pleasure at the thought of death.

Another blow came to her. It was declared that her marriage was invalid because My Lady was already married to another, a union made in her youth. I know not if it were true. The Archbishop came to hear her confession and My Lady took the Holy Sacrament. She vowed that she had never been unfaithful to her beloved husband in all the years of their marriage.

****

Early one morning in the middle of May we helped My Lady to dress for the final time. She put on a red petticoat and on top of that a loose, dark grey damask gown, which was trimmed with fur. Over the top of this we draped a mantle of ermine and placed a coif, a white bonnet, and a headdress. It was Friday morning when they took My Lady to her execution.

We followed behind as My Lady walked the fifty yards from her lodgings to the Tower Green. She was gay, not as one going to her death. There were members of the court present, Thomas Cromwell and Lord Chancellor Audley, various dukes and the Mayor of London, and the ever present ravens. It is said that if these birds ever leave, the White Tower will crumble and a great disaster shall befall England.

All trace of tears and hysteria gone, My Lady had never looked so beautiful. She mounted the scaffold, moving gracefully around the straw bales, then bravely faced the crowd and addressed them.

“Masters, I here meekly yield myself to the law as the law has judged me, and as for my misdeeds I here accuse no man. God knoweth them. I consign them to God, entreating him to have mercy on my soul.”

Her back straight, her head held high, she stood every inch a noble lady as she spoke these words, without faltering. She knelt down. My Lady’s headdress was removed, leaving only the white coif holding back thick black hair from her long neck. I tied a blindfold concealing her beautiful black eyes. The whole time My Lady was praying quietly.

“To Jesus Christ I commend my soul!”

Over and over again the words came, with calm conviction. We left the scaffold, our places quickly taken by the executioner and his assistant. He called out,

“Bring me the sword!”

My Lady turned her head at the sound of his voice, moving her beautiful neck into the perfect position. The Sword of Calais was swiftly produced from its hiding place in the straw bales. The executioner raised it above his head. The crowd held its breath, the air was still and not even the ravens dared break the silence. The sword shone in the early morning light, then with one swift stroke the swordsman brought it down, slicing through flesh, sinew and bone. The execution was over. My poor brave mistress lived no more.

****

After a few minutes the spectators began to move away, discussing the event in low tones. Whether they agreed with the taking of a life as punishment, I know not. All living things have a right to life. It is not for man to decide when another’s life should end. That is for a higher power to decide.

When all were gone about their business, we four mounted the scaffold once more. My Lady’s head was covered with a white cloth. Then we ladies-in-waiting, tears coursing freely down our cheeks, moved her body. A Tower workman brought an empty arrow box in which to place My Lady, for no provision had been yet made for her burial.

My Lady was carried just twenty yards to the Chapel of St Peter in the south-eastern corner of the White Tower, where she was later interred, to find the peace in death that was taken from her in life.

Farewell to thee, My Lady, Anne Boleyn, Queen of England

***********

Reviews

[Sesame]

Hello Alice,

Thanks for entering the competition. Alas not a winner this time. I do not have the time to provide a detailed critique on all the submissions, but a few remarks:
- this story is quite well written, but for me it lacks plot (twists) -> it is one way traffic to the execution
- We learn nothing of the maiden herself
- to tell the story from the perspective of the maiden is original, but it forces you to sum up all events that led to her execution in a wikipedia style. It is the thoughts of My Lady that I am more interested in.

Regards,

Sesame

@followsesame on Twitter

www.themagiccave.com

[Alice]

Thank you for your comments

[Xander Lewis]

This was very a very interesting read. She seemed very brave leading up to the execution and I liked how she even made a joke about it. I'll look forward to more of your work.

[Chris]

Well and respectfully told. A minor word flaw - "But should we take the life of another because they have committed an ill dead? " - deed?