In the Shadow of the Crown - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,52

was leading him along the path to Hell.

What was the use of praying for a miracle?

There was no miracle, and Anne Boleyn was crowned Queen of England which she could never be to me—and to many, I hoped—while my mother lived.

HOW WELL I remember those months before the birth of Anne Boleyn's child. She was constantly in my thoughts. I tortured myself with pictures of her—imaginary, of course. My father doted on her, sure that she was about to give him the longed-for son.

But there began to be rumors that all was not well, and that, after having waited so long for her, he was now asking himself why he had endured so much for her sake; and he was looking at other women—something he had not done for a long time, since he had first become obsessed by her. Were these merely rumors or was this actually taking place? As much as I wanted to believe them, I could not accept the fact that his mad desire had evaporated so rapidly.

And she was pregnant—that should make her doubly attractive. She was about to give him what he craved.

A messenger came to Newhall with a command from the King. I was to go to Court that I might be present at the birth of the child.

I was furious. I stamped and raged. “I will not go,” I cried. “I will not.”

The Countess looked sorrowful. “Dear Princess,” she said. “Consider. This is a command from the King.”

“I care not. How can he expect me to take part in the rejoicing at the birth of her child?”

“He does, and you must.”

“Never,” I cried. “Never!”

The Countess shrugged her shoulders. “What do you think the King would say to that? You must tread carefully. You could be on dangerous ground.”

“You mean he might kill me?”

The Countess was silent.

“You really believe that might be, do you not?” I demanded.

“I think life could be very unpleasant for you if you disobeyed,” she answered.

“It is unpleasant now.”

“More unpleasant. Dangerous in fact. Princess, I do beg of you. Be careful.”

“Do understand me,” I pleaded. “I must refuse.”

She shook her head.

There was a letter from my mother.

“You must obey the King,” she wrote. “It is your duty. He is your father. Do not add to my anxieties. They are many and would be more if I thought you defied your father and so roused his anger against you. At present he remembers you are his daughter. Do not, I beg of you, do anything to make him turn against you.”

Then I knew I had to accept what was asked of me. I should have to be there when the odious child was born.

So I set out for Greenwich. Until the baby was born I must live under the same roof as my father and the woman I continued to call his concubine.

From the moment I arrived I was made aware of the fact that my situation had changed a good deal from those days when my father had fondled me and delighted in his daughter.

I did see him briefly. He gave me a cool nod and somehow managed to convey that I had better behave in a seemly manner or it would be the worse for me.

I was presented to her, too. There she was, large with child, smug, complacent, carrying the heir to the throne, she thought. How I hated her! Elegant, she was, in her rich velvets apeing the Queen.

She gave me her hand to kiss. I could have spurned her but I seemed to hear my mother's voice pleading with me; and I could guess at my father's rage if I showed my contempt for her.

So I was cool to her, as she was to me, and if ever hatred flowed between people, it flowed between us two.

“Please God, do not let her live,” I prayed. “Let her and the child die. Let the King realize his cruelty and let all be well between us.”

It was September. The baby was expected hourly. The King was in a state of high excitement, certain that at last he would have his son. I wondered what he would say if he knew I was silently praying for the death of the witch and her offspring.

Then Anne Boleyn was brought to bed.

A special chamber in the Palace of Greenwich had been prepared for the birth. It had been hung with tapestries depicting the history of holy virgins. My father had given her one of the most beautiful beds he had