Page 89 of Crowned Viper


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“I will sleep for a little while, if I can. Mother, Mary, you may leave me awhile. I will keep Thomasin beside me in case I need anything, but you are due a distraction.”

Lady Elizabeth was unconvinced. “Are you sure you wish us to leave? I will be no trouble, just quiet in the corner.”

“I will not be able to sleep knowing you are all here. Go and have some wine, some conversation. See a different space; hear the news. Thomasin will call if need be. That will be well, Mistress Blackwood, will it not?”

“Indeed, quite well. I shall remain in the waiting space on the other side of the door, but you two ladies should take the opportunity.”

Thomasin nodded. “You two have been in here all night; it is only right.”

“Very well.” Lady Elizabeth eased herself up slowly from the bed. “But we shall only be in the great chamber, so do not hesitate if the situation changes.”

Thomasin watched her and Mary go, then took the chair by the bedside. It had been supplied with a golden cushion, but the back was still hard and straight. The room was suddenly very still once the door had closed.

Anne pulled the covers up to her chin. “I wish I could simply sleep and wake to find my babe here.”

“I think that must be the wish of all mothers-to-be.”

“If I am to die, Thomasin…”

“No, do not speak in that way. You are not going to die.”

“No, listen to me. I must speak. For all my prayers and efforts and strength, I know that women do die in travail. It would be wrong not to think of it. I do not wish to alarm my mother with such talk, but I can trust you with my wishes, Thomasin. I know it.”

“Of course you can, my lady.”

“I know that my father brought you from Suffolk to be with me at this time, that he has given you special instructions to stay by my side and offer your good sense.”

Thomasin blushed. “It was my honour to accept his commission.”

“Just as he asked you to accompany my mother at the time of my coronation. But, Thomasin, I think you are more than a woman whose services can be bought. I know you to be of sound common sense and good nature, of shrewd judgement and wisdom well beyond your years. Your friendship with Thomas More alone speaks of that.”

“I do my best, my lady.” Thomasin had not realised Anne had been observing her so closely.

“Listen, should my son survive me, he must be brought up in the reformed faith. He must have the right teachers, the right confessor and priests in his household — only trusted men who have rejected popery.”

“The king will see to all this, I am sure.”

“But he may not go far enough. My son will rule over a reformed country, and he must be prepared for it. His tutors must be chosen carefully, men of learning and kindness, who will support the translated Bible and reject the old vices. He will be a great king, Thomasin, a great king, but he will have his troubles following on from all that has happened. He must not reconcile with the Pope but lead his country bravely and truly, and often alone.”

“I am sure he will, and you will be there to guide him.”

“And in his infancy, surround him with only the kindest ladies, who will love him as their own child, and let no one speak harsh words to him, nor scold him, but keep him on a firm regime of study, exercise, play and prayer.”

“Of course, my lady. All that will be done.”

“But I will not have him sent to Ludlow. It is a foul, dangerous place full of pestilent airs, which caused the king’s brother to lose his life — that Arthur who was once husband to Catherine. Let him be raised at Hatfield or Eltham, where the air is cleaner, and let his household move often to preserve him from plagues and the sweat, and his linen be boiled to kill the lice, and his walls whitewashed with lime.”

“My lady, all this will be done and more. You are worrying needlessly.”

“But if I die, Henry must not go back to Catherine. They will try and persuade him, and she will raise the child, but better that he takes a new wife than goes back to the old ways.”

“You must stop this,” said Thomasin firmly. “Put these thoughts from your mind; they come from your fears and your condition, not from truth.”

“But while she lives, while she remains in England, I am in danger.”

“No, you are in no danger from Catherine.”

“From him! From him returning to her.”