She was found guilty with those who were accused with her. Of course she was. It was intended.

Norris, Weston and Brereton were taken out to Tower Hill and beheaded. George Boleyn and his sister would follow.

The day before her execution, Lady Kingston, in whose care Anne Boleyn had been placed in the Tower, came to me.

She said, “The Queen has sent me to you, my lady.”

I was always a little taken aback to hear Anne Boleyn referred to as the Queen, even now, though Heaven knew I had heard that title used often enough to describe her. I was about to retort: You are referring to the concubine. But something restrained me. For all her sins, she was suffering acute anguish now.

“What would she want of me?” I asked.

“Forgiveness, my lady,” she replied. “She made me sit in her chair… the Queen's chair… for they have not taken that away from her… and she knelt most humbly at my feet. She said to me, ‘Go to the Princess Mary and kneel to her as I kneel to you. My treatment of the Princess weighs heavily on my conscience. I was cruel to her and I regret that now. For everything else I can go to my Maker with a clear conscience, for I have committed no sin save in my conduct toward the Princess and her mother. I cannot ask forgiveness of Queen Katharine but I humbly beg the Princess to grant me hers. Let her know you come in my name and that it is I who kneel to her through you.'”

I was astounded. I thought: Poor woman, she is indeed brought low.

But she remembered me in her darkest moments and she was now asking my forgiveness.

It was hard to forgive her, but an image of my mother rose in my mind and I knew what she would have me do.

I said, “Tell her to rest in peace. I forgive her on behalf of myself and my mother.”

The next day she went to Tower Green and laid her head on the block.

NO SOONER WAS ANNE BOLEYN DEAD THAN MY FATHER WAS betrothed to Jane Seymour. I am not sure how many days elapsed before he married. It could not have been more than ten. I heard that it had taken place on the 30th of May in the Queen's Closet at York Place. Anne Boleyn had died on the 19th.

I often wondered about my father and whether his nights were disturbed by the ghosts of those who had fallen foul of his will. For so many years Anne Boleyn had been the center of his life. How could he have tired of her so quickly? I wondered about Jane Seymour. I had seen her on one or two occasions and found her gentle and unassuming. She had always been pleasant to me.

The story was that about a month before Anne's death my father had sent her a purse of sovereigns, telling her of his passion for her and hinting that she should become his mistress. Her reply had been that she could be no man's mistress, not even the King's. It was the familiar pattern. Anne Boleyn had started it. I wondered Jane Seymour did not have a few qualms about following her predecessor along such a dangerous path.

Of course she had ambitious brothers and, from what I heard of her, I imagined she would not be one to put up much resistance. In that of course she was the exact opposite of Anne. In fact, she seemed to be so in many ways. Perhaps that was why the King was attracted by her.

Elizabeth was at Hunsdon. She was now three, old enough to recognize the chilly change which was passing through the house and was to affect her.

She was no longer the pampered princess. Poor motherless little creature, I wondered how much she understood. She was a bright child with reddish hair almost exactly like her father's. She resembled him in many ways and had his fondness for her own way. Lady Bryan adored her. It was pleasant to be with my old friend again. I would always be grateful to her for her kindness to me when I was so alone.

Several of my old servants came to me… people I had not seen for several years. That was a joyous reunion. I was above all delighted to see Susan Clarencieux, who had been in my household when I was at Ludlow. I had always been especially fond of her.

I had thought that my circumstances would change with the departure of Anne Boleyn from the scene, and I was proved right.

Chapuys came to me. He was gleeful.

“You could very easily be received back at Court,” he said. “That is what we must work for. The new Queen is ready to be your friend.”

“I do remember meeting her in the past.”

“She has sentimental reasons about the family. The King is amused by them and apt to be indulgent at the moment. I am sure she will speak to him with regard to bringing you to Court.”

“A change from her predecessor!”

“A great change indeed…in all ways. The point is…I wonder how long it will take the King to tire of this shy violet. However, I feel sure it will not be long before you are back at Court. There must be no hitch. It is imperative that you come out of your exile.”

“Do you think the King will admit now that he was truly married to my mother?”

“I think he has gone too far with that to retreat with ease.”

“Still, he now hates Anne Boleyn so much.”

“And blames her for all that has happened. He is saying that it was through witchcraft that he became enamored of her and now that is removed he sees clearly. The people cheer you when you go out, do they not?”

“Yes, more so than ever now.”

“That is good. The King will have to respect the people's wish which is that you be reinstated. It might be advisable for you to write to him and ask his blessing and forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness… for what? For saying what is true… what I meant… for defending my mother?”

Chapuys raised his hand admonishingly. “A little compromise might be necessary.”

“I shall never deny my mother's marriage. She never did and was incapable of lying.”

“We shall see…we shall see,” murmured Chapuys.

“The King is in a mellow mood just now. He has a new wife and she pleases him. He has convinced himself that Anne Boleyn was evil, a witch…so his conscience is at rest on that score.”

“Do you think he will return to Rome?”

“I fear not. He has come too far to turn back.”

“So we are doomed for ever.”

Chapuys looked at me slyly. “It is unwise to talk of these matters, but it is not inconceivable that one day England will return to the true faith.”

“But if the King never would…”

He was looking at me intently. “You are no longer a child. Princess Elizabeth is now proclaimed to be a bastard. Fitzroy might have presented a threat but he cannot live more than a few months. He has death written on him. And the King's fall affected him more than was realized.”

“You mean his fall from the horse just before my mother died?”

He nodded.

“He has not ridden in the joust since. He has aged considerably. I have heard that there is an ulcer on his leg which is very painful. There is a possibility…But perhaps I should say no more. Indeed, it might be unwise to…”

I knew what he meant. My father was ageing. He had not been spectacularly successful in begetting children. What if he could get no more? Then who would follow him? Elizabeth? She was out of favor now, judged a bastard, for the King did not accept his marriage with Anne Boleyn. Nor did he accept his marriage to my mother. So there were two of us. Young Richmond—Henry Fitzroy—could not be counted because he would not be here much longer. I was the elder, and I would find greater favor with the people than the daughter of Anne Boleyn.

Chapuys was pointing to a dazzling prospect. Queen of England! A queen with a mission, which was to bring England back to the Holy Catholic Church.

Something happened to me then. I was lifted out of my despondency. I had a reason for living.