Chapter Twenty-Seven - The Last Time
Greenwich Palace
30th November 1541
They come for me just as dawn breaks.
Whilst the rest of the court sleeps in peaceful ignorance, an eerie light surfaces as I leave my chambers. Although I'll never admit it to anyone, I'm terrified. My future is so uncertain and yet at the same time I feel as if someone somewhere is planning every part of my downfall, and that no matter what I do, my fate will not change. They do not speak, these nameless phantoms that collect me. I ask them "where are we going?", and they say nothing. It is as if I do not even exist; stripped of my crown and title, I now do not even have a voice.
As we walk in silence through these cold, stone passageways, suffocated of any light, I hear the most awful scream. Gasping, I turn around to try and see where it is coming from. I am told to keep moving, but I can not, for the door containing this noise sits slightly ajar and I am too intrigued. I peer in, half in fear, half in anticipation. What I see confuses me, and it takes a good few seconds before I comprehend what is going on.
Jane Rochford is there, except, she looks so different. Her hair is knotted and tangled, face dirty, arms scratched, and she is mumbling incoherently. Then, without any warning, she breaks out in a screech, stamps her foot, then returns to her muttering, eyes wild.
"Jane?" I cry. "What is the matter with her?" I ask at nobody in particular.
"Lady Rochford has gone mad." Replies one of the nameless men.
"Gone mad? How?"
"We need to keep going."
"May I at least say goodbye to her?"
"She will not understand you."
"What will happen to her?"
"That depends on the result of the investigation."
"Will she not be taken care of?"
"We need to leave."
And just like, my questions are brushed off as if I am a nobody, and Jane's situation is nothing more than a fact for them. If Jane is mad then she is surely fragile, but, more importantly, she is vulnerable to talk, to tell them about the affair. All I can do is pray that they leave her be given her situation.
Once again, we continue along the stone passageways, and I wonder when I will see them again, if indeed I will. It is only the thought of the adoration that the King has for me which gives me hope, the possibility that, despite my past, he will continue to love me. If that happens, I may be able to return to this court, to walk these hallways when they are filled with warm Spring air and sunshine, as a Queen. Or, I may never walk them again, left with the memory of this cold morning.
A small carriage waits out in the courtyard. Again, there is not a soul in sight, except perhaps the ghosts that too have travelled in my footsteps. I climb in without a second thought, too scared to run.
"May I at least know where we are going now?" I ask. "I am here, I cannot run."
"Syon Abbey."
"An abbey? But why there?"
"You have been formally indicted over your past, you are to go to the Abbey and await further instructions."
"Will I be allowed to leave it?"
"No, the King has given specific orders that you are not to leave."
"Well...at least it is not the Tower." I say to myself. Or at least, not yet.
As the carriage trundles its way slowly out of the courtyard, I turn to give one more look at the palace. I remember so clearly the first day that I arrived here, not so long ago, how amazed I was by it. And now the palace does not want me.
As the carriage draws further down the yard, I catch sight of a figure watching from underneath one of the arches. My heart jumps, I would recognise that figure from anywhere. But he makes no attempt to stop this. Surely he is here to save me?
"Henry!" I call back. "Your Majesty, please stop this!"
He makes no movement, only watches.
"HENRY!" I shout in desperation. "Henry please! I am innocent! Do not send me away! Henry!"
But my cries are ignored by him, and my voice is carried away by the breeze as the carriage turns a bend and the King disappears out of sight. I continue to call, but nobody can hear me.
I am alone completely now, with only my fear for company. At least it seems that my charge is about my past alone, not an affair, therefore I can be happy in the hope that Culpepper will be safe. Though, for what my affections are worth, Culpepper has not tried to help me in any of this.
As we continue on our gloomy journey to Syon Abbey, I pray for a change of events, I pray that the King changes his mind.
Little did I know then that I would never see Henry again.
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