Chapter One: The Marquess of Pembroke

The door to her Tower apartments opened with a slow creak. Anne's eyes flew open, her poor imitation of sleep abandoned as she sat up in bed, her long dark hair streaming around her.

"Is it time already?" she croaked, voice hoarse from a long night of crying.

"No," her niece Catherine replied in a low voice. "I have heard some startling news from Mr. Kingston."

The sudden flush of color that has infused her cheeks at the thought of her execution disappeared, leaving Anne pale once more. "What is it?"

"The people are amassing outside of the Tower to protest your execution."

"You jest at a poorly chosen time, dear niece. The people hate me."

Catherine strode forward and took Anne's thin shoulder in her hand, pulling her from the bed and over towards the window. "I didn't believe him, either, but there they are, all the same."

Pushing aside the tapestry, Anne gawked at the mass of torch bearing Londoners. "Jesu preserve us," she whispered in awe. "Why now?"

"The King has released to the public the details of your trial and the annulment."

"THAT is what swayed them?" she asked incredulously.

"Even the most uneducated Londoner knows that you cannot commit adultery if you were never married, my Lady."

Anne's eyes widened as she began to laugh and cry at the same time. "Too late! Too late to save George, or Harry, or Frankie, or Will... or even Smeaton. Perhaps too late to save me, as well, but how cruel to show me a glimmer of hope at a time when I can hardly expect it."

Catherine said nothing as Anne continued.

"Henry cannot stand to be unpopular. Perhaps...perhaps he will reconsider."

Henry, despite the late hour, was pacing in his room, railing at Cromwell.

"Don't these people understand that it is the plotting of taking my LIFE that is treason! It is not just the cuckoldry, though by God's blood that should be reason enough!"

Cromwell knew quite well that this moment could define the rest of his life. He advanced carefully. "Your Majesty, you are, as always, correct. Perhaps..."

Henry whirled to face him, eyes ablaze. "Yes, Thomas! Provide me the answer!"

"Her Grace the Marquess of Pembroke was always an intelligent woman. Perhaps, through your infinite mercy, you shall see clear to pardoning Lady Boleyn..."

"PARDON--!"

Cromwell plowed through Henry's bellow. "...and offer her that which you offered your first wife to whom you were no husband—a life of decent obscurity."

Henry paused, one foot on the step to his bed. "Will this appease the people, Crum?"

"It must, Your Majesty. Send the Marquess to one of her estates with her daughter, Elizabeth Fitzroy, and marry Mistress Seymour with all the pomp and ceremony you wish. That way, you avoid that awful moniker of 'wife-killer,' and the Marquess will be so grateful for the return of her life and her daughter that she will show the world how to gracefully accede to her King's command."

"I must say, I had my misgivings of robbing Elizabeth of both mother and legitimacy," Henry mused, attempting to place a humane face on the matter.

"Aye. With the Marquess far from court, she can be discreetly watched to insure Your Majesty's safety, but without standing at Court, I believe her plotting days will be at an end."

Cromwell could see the wheels turning in Henry's mind. "Very well, Crum. I trust no one with this but you. Go to the Marquess of Pembroke this very hour and provide her with the following offer..."

"...to remain the Marquess of Pembroke, as letters patent affirm, and maintain possession of the King's baseborn daughter, Her Lady Elizabeth's Grace, on the condition of remaining far from the court in all occasions in which her absence would not be remarked upon..." Anne read aloud in increasing disbelief. Her head shot up, dark eyes boring into Cromwell's. "Am I to take from this that I may keep my head, my income, AND my daughter, Secretary Cromwell?!"

"Never let it be said that I forget those who aided me to my position, my Lady," Cromwell responded, a bit of a smirk on his lean features. "I attempted to use my influence where it could be of the most use."

"Attempted? Tom, you have wrought miracles!" She clutched the paper to her chest, crumpling the fine vellum in her exuberance. "Of course I accept! Tell Henry—no, no, let me write it myself!"

She swirled toward the small table in the corner and wrote out in her best hand a letter to send back to Hen—His Majesty.

Most sovereign Lord and Master....

"...Most humbly do I accept your terms in order to secure my freedom. Hereafter and forever more do I proclaim my loyalty to you, Henricus Rex of England. Know that I shall be forever in your debt," Henry read, his relief almost palpable. For a time, he feared she would throw it back in his face. Anne was a sensible woman, however.

Pinned beneath the first sheet was a second, more personal note.

Henry,

Steadfastly do I still maintain that I have never nor would never do anything to harm you, any part of you. As you are England, I must then reaffirm that I would never bring shame to you or our country. I shall raise Elizabeth as befits a King's natural daughter, and you are welcome in Hertfordshire at any time without equivocation. Although our "marriage" was unsuccessful, Henry, I would very much like to remain friends.

I look forward to meeting with you again.

Yours forever,

Anne Boleyn

Henry was no fool. Anne was hedging her bets. He was also an opportunist, and Anne knew better than anyone that he would use her acquiescence to ensure his next marriage was rock solid.

"Tell Norfolk that I want to see him."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Howard sidled into the room three-quarters of an hour later, only his bloodshot eyes and slightly groggy demeanor betraying that it was not even dawn. Henry barely noticed the time.

"My dear Lord Norfolk..."

He was unheeding, however. The moment he had reached Henry's presence, he threw himself onto his stomach and, forehead to the cold stones, was babbling, "I knew not of the Whore's plans, my liege... that unnatural, unfeeling woman is no niece of mine..."

Henry's eyes were narrowed, blue chips of ice in his reddening face. "Ah. Well, then, I suppose my request for you to escort the Marquess of Pembroke and Her Lady Elizabeth's Grace to Herfordshire will be denied, then."

Those words penetrated the self-preserving fog around Norfolk's brain. "Your Majesty...?"

"The Marquess is to be pardoned and sent to Herfordshire, and I would like you to escort her to Hatfield to retrieve Lady Elizabeth and then to her estates to live in proper estate until such time as she can return to Court with minimum ceremony."

In a flash, Norfolk was on his knees, grasping Henry's hand and kissing the rings. "Your Majesty, you are too gracious..."

"Yes, yes, Norfolk, I know. I'd like you to be at the Tower with an entourage equal to the Marquess' rank in order to release her by midday."

As Norfolk bowed out, Henry turned to the window and watched the sun rise over his kingdom.

Next chapter:

"Mamma!"

Heedless of protocol, of Lady Bryan's grasping hand holding the three year old in place, Anne took four running steps forward and swept Elizabeth up into her arms. She tucked the fair head under her chin and held her tightly.

"Elizabeth, Elizabeth, my darling..." For all the gratitude she held for Henry for allowing her to keep her head, it was increased a thousand-fold to know that she would be able to watch her daughter grow up, even if it was with the taint of bastardy.