The Rose Without a Thorn

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SHE IS YOUNG, BEAUTIFUL and very frightened.

She said to me: “It is coming nearer. I feel it all about me. There will be no way out. It will be as it was with my cousin Anne. Why did I not see it? Tell me.”

I answered: “Your Majesty must not distress yourself. The King loves you as he loved none other … not even your cousin.”

The long-lashed hazel eyes regarded me intently.

She answered: “He loved her much in the beginning. He defied the Church for her sake. He sent good men to their deaths because of her. And then he ordered her to be killed. The same fate awaits me. I can already see the executioner’s axe ready for me.”

“There is no need …” I began.

“There is every need,” she replied. “I know you love me. I know you speak out of regard for my feelings. You would give me cheer. But it remains, and there is one thing I would ask of you. The desire has come to me to set it all down, to see it all in clarity, just as it happened. Mayhap it could have been different. I could have been happy with Thomas. He is waiting for me … even now. If I had never gone to Court… if only the King had never looked my way … if only I could go back to the time when it had all begun. No, right to the beginning, those first days—that day when I left my father’s home at Lambeth, before I went to my grandmother in Horsham … yes, right to the very beginning, mayhap I could then discover where I might have saved myself. But I am not good with the pen. I was never tutored as I should have been.”

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