Visibly shaken, Lady Rochford continued. “I have offended the king’s royal Majesty very dangerously, so my punishment today is just and deserved. I am justly condemned by the laws of this realm and by Parliament.”
Elizabeth leaned close. “Will she cry?”
I ignored her.
The tremble in the voice of the condemned grew louder. “All of you who watch me die should learn from my example and change your own lives. You must gladly obey the king in all things, for he is a just and godly prince. I pray for his preservation and beseech you all to do the same. I now entrust my soul to God and pray for his mercy.”
She paused once more and scanned the audience. “Do pray for me.”
With a gauzy cap covering her hair, she wore the look of a cornered fox. And the bloodhounds were coming.
The knotted ends of string flipped about her thin shoulders as her dark eyes continued to search the crowd, from face to face.
Elizabeth nudged me. “It’s as though she’s looking for someone familiar.”
I glanced at Elizabeth. “Wouldn’t you?”
Elizabeth shrugged thoughtfully as we turned our attention back to the scaffold.
Lady Rochford’s gaze darted along the front row. Chills shook my spine when her eyes met mine. She smiled broadly. A light seemed to turn on in her once-empty eyes, and she wrung her hands at her middle. Elizabeth’s gasp was almost as loud as mine.
Lady Rochford arched her eyebrows and raised her voice. “Shall I say more?”
Is she asking me?
I shook my head gently and returned her smile. Mine wasn’t as bright.
The chills that had shaken my spine coursed over my flesh and turned my blood to ice as Lady Rochford dropped to her knees. Still, she held my stare. Perhaps it was her familiar smile that bothered me most. Tears sprang to my eyes.
“She’s gone mad,” Elizabeth confirmed in my ear. “I believe it. I do, truly.”
Jane’s head sank onto the stained block. Hues of dark magenta, left by those unfortunates who met their eternity upon that very block, colored the wood. Lady Rochford adjusted herself, fidgeting about like a child, until her eyes found mine. Her mouth spread into a wide grin, once again bringing with it icy fingers of fear that tickled my throat.
The headsman, cloaked in a dirt brown cape, stepped forward. A gleaming double-edged axe lay against his shoulder. From behind a hooded leather mask, his icy gaze followed that of the condemned until it met mine.
“It’s him,” I managed through clenched teeth. My palms dampened once again.
Elizabeth’s voice was a whisper. “Hey, is that not the man who spoke to you a moment ago?”
My hand found hers, and I gave it a squeeze.
Something in his eyes, blue as the June sky, made me flush. He paused a moment and gazed down at me from the scaffold before remembering his duty to the ladies of the hour.
He knelt next to Lady Rochford and began to speak. His voice rolled out over the silent crowd like a distant thunder. “Forgive me, m’lady.”
“Of course, m’lord. I forgive you.” Lady Rochford looked past him and offered me a small, girlish wave.
The executioner stood and moved behind her. Raising his axe without further fanfare, he brought it down upon the naked neck of Lady Rochford with a whistling crack.
A raucous cheer went up from the crowd, but not from me. Ladies dressed in royal garb pushed past Elizabeth and me. One of them held a basket. When they picked up Lady Rochford’s bloodied head, I saw her face. The foreboding grin was there, as wide as it had been in life, but the eerie light in her eyes was forever extinguished. A chilled tremble began in my fingers and traveled up until it reached my face.
Can the crowd see me shaking?
Behind the bloodied block, the fat man in purple removed Catherine Howard’s velvet cloak. She looked so small, standing there in the same kind of shroud-like gown as Lady Rochford. Not at all like a queen, much less the Queen of England. I suppose she never really had been queen of anything, and now the whole of England—her included—knew Catherine Howard had never been anything more than a mere plaything to a king.
She inched toward the block, which was now covered in syrupy scarlet.
Did she step out of a yellow puddle of her own making?
I pushed myself onto the tips of my toes, but someone pushed in front of me and cut off my view.
Elizabeth’s voice was a whisper. “It is rumored that she called for the block to be brought to her in the Tower last night. So she could practice laying herself upon it in a way not to cause embarrassment today.” She nudged me. “In her practicing, do you think she accounted for the pool of blood?”
I ignored my cousin.
The same man who led both she and Lady Rochford through the crowd took Catherine’s arm and helped her to the block. Her face was ghostly pale, and her legs trembled. Her voice trilled out as she began her speech. “My punishment is worthy and just as I stand here before God and all of you good Christian people. I beseech your mercy and prayers for my family and for my soul which will shortly arrive in Purgatory.”
Purgatory? My brows knotted above my eyes. Was Catherine a Catholic, like her family? Like me?
“I die before you today a Queen,” she said. Catherine paused, commanding the attention of all who stood before her. “But truly I tell you now, I would rather have died the wife of Thomas Culpeper.”
A resounding gasp rose up from those in attendance.
“Her alleged lover who was executed for their passionate and lengthy affair!” Elizabeth’s words strangled in her throat. “He was His Majesty’s groom, and his head sits on London Bridge this very moment!”
Amid the low chatters that threatened to erupt into cacophony, Catherine knelt at the block and offered her forgiveness to the iron-eyed executioner. This time, he didn’t glance at me. Something inside me wished he would.
I shook off the thought. How absurd, Bridget. To earn the admiration of a murderer? Could one love a man who kills for a living?
