Chapter Text
It’s been just over a year since Henry VIII executed the last Queen. Now, I am facing the same punishment.
I can see the pole they will chain me up to from my cell window. There will be no executioner’s block, not for me. I committed a worse crime than my friend did. At least, that is what the Constable tells me.
The only problem is I don’t know what I did wrong. I did everything Henry told me to; I tried to act like the perfect Queen. So what did I do wrong? Was I too friendly with the gardener? Did I show favour to someone he didn’t like? I wrack my brain, trying to think of everything I did. What was it that turned Henry against me?
One of my ladies-in-waiting was executed yesterday, in the confines of the Tower. I felt it was my duty to watch, but the Constable wouldn’t let me. I should’ve been there to support her. So why wasn’t I allowed to watch my friend die? Did I do something so wrong that my husband decided that I shouldn’t be there for my friend? I promised to be there for her like she was there for me. I wasn’t there to support her when she died. I must be a horrible friend.
Maybe I should not focus on what is outside my room. It will only remind me of my impending doom. But inside the room isn’t much better than Tower Green. The wooden walls are plain, but I wasn’t expecting any tapestries. I am not in the Queen’s apartments. What is the point in keeping a queen there if she will die in the morning? The room almost feels like a dungeon; there are no tapestries on the wood panels, and the furniture is minimal. Maybe it should be a dungeon; I’m a prisoner.
Are the other queens watching over me? Queen Catherine, Queen Anne, Queen Jane, Queen Katherine? How do they feel watching a fifteen-year-old girl die? I was even younger than Katherine- surely that must count for something? But maybe it doesn’t. Perhaps I should be dead anyway. I look out of the window and focus on the pole. Will Henry let me have a speech? I guess he would; it would be my last statement to a cruel world that ripped me away from my mothers and my time. Then, I will let the executioner tie me up and bury me in sticks and logs before they set it on fire. I close my eyes and try to keep the phantom flames away.
"You do not deserve this," I hear a Scottish voice say. I open my eyes to see a figure in a silver dress standing in my room. She’s wearing a matching crown, and her hazel eyes sparkle with warmth. "You are better than everyone else says you are." I don’t remember seeing her in any portraits, and I think the English and the Scots are unfriendly at the moment. Who is this woman? "It’s all right, Esme." Wait, how does she know my name? "My name is Jane Seymour."
"That’s not possible," I say, saying the first words I spoke in hours. My throat feels raw, and I almost croak the words out.
"Oh, come here, darling," Jane opens her arms, and I find myself falling into them. "It’s all right, Esme." I feel my legs give way, and Jane helps me move over to the bed, and I curl up into her side. She takes off my hood and starts stroking my brown hair. I close my eyes and lean into the touch. It’s been a long time since someone would sit with me like this. I want to sleep, but I dare not. I don’t want to spoil my time with Jane by sleeping. Besides, it should be the last thing I want to do.
"I don’t know," I say and wipe my eyes with my sleeve. "Jane, is there a Heaven?"
"Of course, there is, Sweetheart. There is a Heaven, and I will stay here with you until you get there."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
I’m not sure how long we sit there, but when I finally move, dawn is rising. Grey sunlight filters through the window. Jane hasn’t left my side. She smiles at me when she sees I’m ready to move. "You ready?"
"I think so," I whisper, but it feels like I cannot breathe. Jane picks up the white cap from where I left it last night.
"Can I braid your hair?" I nod and turn around, and Jane brushes my hair out with her fingers before she starts braiding it. She places the cap on top when she finishes, and I turn to face her. Jane kisses my forehead as I hear the soldiers coming for me. "Remember, I will stay with you until the end." I nod and turn to face the door as I hear the key turn in the lock.
The door opens, and the guards in the red Tudor uniform walk in. Following them is the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer. He and I never looked at each other in the eye; he was the one that brought Katherine’s downfall. It seems like they do not see Jane standing beside me, with a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Lady Esme, are you ready?"
"Yes, sir." I will try and keep my dignity; it is all I have left. The soldiers surround me, and Jane slips between them to stand beside me. She drops a purse into my hand; I need to pay the executioner and pray he will dispatch me quickly. Together, we start walking out of the building and towards Tower Green.
Hardly anyone turned up to my execution. No one cares that I will die. Standing before the pole is the executioner. He’s wearing a black outfit and a black leather mask. He would not want people identifying him for killing a child. Am I a child here? No, in Tudor England, fifteen is considered an adult. How the hell did this happen? The soldiers continue marching, and Thomas Cranmer leads me towards the executioner. I give the executioner the purse and turn to the small crowd. I had a speech planned out, but I have no family here, no friends. And there’s no way I’m pledging my dying thoughts to my husband. He does not need that, and I will not let him win.
"Good Christian people, I am here to die by order of the King. I was due to turn sixteen tomorrow, and I’m not of this time. Indeed that should’ve been some indication that I need more love and protection than most? But the King merely pointed at me and said he’d marry me. He didn’t care that I was only fourteen. He didn’t care that I had no family in this time." Jane is staring at me in shock. "I have no one here who will fall punishment for what I will say, so I will say it. Your King is a monster. He marries and kills children on a whim. He does not take his subjects to heart but would rather get his way no matter the cost. He already discarded four wives and let another die in childbirth once he had his son. Why should we have to bow down to him when the King treats us like nothing more than dirt?" Two of the guards grab me and pull me towards the pole. "Why should we let the King get his way? If he continues as he is, it could be your child he marries next! You can’t protect her; she’ll be at the King’s whim. How many more people have to suffer the King’s wrath?" I stare into the crowd, trying to find someone who will meet my gaze. I settle on Cranmer, but he breaks eye contact with me. I continue glaring at him. "I will not ask you to pray for me because I do not believe in God. You cannot waste your prayers on me." I feel them tying my body to the pole and throwing the sticks at my feet, building up the kindling. One of them wraps a bag of gunpowder around my neck.
Suddenly, Jane’s in the middle of the pile of sticks with me. "What were you thinking?" She asks.
"I have no family here; no one will champion my cause. What is the use in praising a king who murders others to satisfy his paranoia? I know things will get better." I can now see the flickering flame as they begin lighting the wood around me.
"Hey, look at me." Jane moves to stand directly in front of me, so I cannot help but look at her. It’s too soon when the flames start licking my skin, but I try to ignore the pain. Tears slip down my cheeks in waves, and Jane strokes my hair again. "Everything will be all right, Sweetheart, I promise." I lean into Jane’s touch for a couple of moments, but the pain starts feeling unbearable. I open my mouth and shriek.
The gunpowder goes off, and the world goes black.