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?

Catherine raised her face to the sky. A flock of geese honked as they flew over the castle, taking my misplaced thoughts of the executioner with them.

Only those of us on the first few rows heard Catherine’s final words. “Life is so very beautiful.”

Silence covered everyone in attendance like a shroud as the Queen of England lowered her head onto the block. I squeezed my eyes shut as the executioner drew back his blade, and the sickening thump that followed made me jump.

“Come ladies.” The courtier with the white plume in his hat stepped in front of us. Behind him, Catherine’s lifeless body oozed blood onto the straw. I tried not to look for her head. Luckily, I didn’t see it when I pushed up onto my tiptoes.

“Ladies?”

I lowered myself back down slowly as several men dragged the headless corpse of the child queen from the scaffold.

“Ladies!” The courtier clapped. “Come now,” he chirped, his face and voice much too bright given the occasion. “Let us prepare for the noon meal. You all must change in your given chambers, then appear in the dining hall in one hour’s time.” He waved his hands as though ushering cattle to slaughter. “Come come ladies! Much to be done!”

I felt eyes on me, burning, as I let myself be pushed along with the retreating crowd. Careful to keep a tight grip on Elizabeth’s hand, I dared a glance over my shoulder. There on the scaffold stood the masked executioner, the deadly double-headed axe at his side. Scarlet liquid coated the edge and dripped from the sharp tip. Drop after drop fell dramatically into the straw below.

I was powerless to break away from his piercing stare and could only return it. His haunting image burned into my mind like a portrait. My stomach turned up in knots as the space between us widened. What is so captivating about this ruthless, hooded headsman?

King Henry VIII’s Castle

His Majesty’s Royal Dining Hall

I

touched the embroidered napkin to the side of my mouth. Every fiber of my being wanted to spit the bite of roasted peacock into it, but I couldn’t. Though His Majesty wasn’t dining with us, I knew he was near.

Watching.

Calculating.

Judging.

As I glanced about, the gilded beak of the shiny blue bird in the center of the table caught my eye once again. Beyond it, Elizabeth laughed her musical laugh with the twins, a pair of tow-headed girls brought in from Dorset. Everything about those twins reminded me of summertime on the coast.

“Do you suppose it is real gold?” The wide-eyed girl from Surrey leaned closer to me. The edge of her scalloped collar dipped into her soup bowl. Her pinched mouth sat slightly off center of her thin chin. “On the beak, I mean.”

With my back impossibly straight, I forced an awkward smile and offered her a small nod. My eyes watered as I let the bite of gamey bird slide down my throat. A hint of turkey haunted my palate as I felt for my cup of wine. All the while, I took care to keep the smile pasted on, on pain of vomiting up the royal dinner.

“I suppose it is,” I managed to the girl from Surrey after I’d drained the last of my wine. “Here, take my napkin. For your lapel.”

She accepted it. Her neck and cheeks flushed to rose red. “Oh! Thank you, really.”

From nowhere, a servant appeared and refilled my mug. English wine rose to the brim, fuller and deeper scarlet than before.

I brushed a cocoa brown tendril of hair over my shoulder. “Thank you, sir.”

He leaned close to my ear. “Compliments of the King.”

My heart slapped the inside of my chest and my breath came faster.

Perhaps he is sending drinks around to all the girls.

Careful not to call too much attention to myself, I turned slightly. The redheaded girl from Surrey still mopped at her front and her large, gray eyes watered just a bit. Sure enough, her mug was dry.

Elizabeth, lost in conversation with one of the twins from Dorset, picked up her mug. Her familiar voice rang out across the table like a beacon in my ears. “Do you suppose His Majesty would think me impolite if I were to ask for a refill?” Obviously already feeling the effects of the first helping, Elizabeth sniggered. “That wine is the best to have ever passed my lips!”

King Henry is watching.

My heartbeat, loud before, quickened to a pulsing gallop in my ears. The world spun around me and melted the dining hall into a fresco of colors, faces, and gold-beaked peacocks, still wearing their iridescent feathers. I squeezed shut my eyes and gripped the side of my chair. Mother Mary, please intercede before I become ill.