CHAPTER ONE

In my head, the plan for tomorrow’s execution plays over and over. After the 100th time, my mind starts to go blank, and my body goes numb. The velvety comforter hugs my body; the creamy pillow drowns me in comfort. I start to drift away.

       Halfway up the rounded cobblestone staircase I can start to smell the rotting stench; I ask the guards, “Do you smell that? Where is it coming from?”

       “Yes, I do smell it; I smell it every day. It is your mother’s cell,” one of the two guards guiding me up the stairs replies. 

       “What?! What have you been doing to her?!” I exclaim.

       “Nothing; she’s been doing this to herself,” one guard replies.

       “But why?” I start running up the stairs swiftly, skipping a step each time. I nearly trip on my blue silk dress. 

       By the time we get to the top of the Tower of London my eyes become locked on a hefty gigantic wooden door that has at least ten different locks on it. I yell, “YOU MUST OPEN THIS DOOR AT ONCE!!!”

       “Well, you're kind of in my way in order to unlock the door.” The other guard rolls his eyes at me. 

       I step out of the way so the guard can unlock what seems like thousands of locks. He swings the door open. A surge of the rotting stench smothers us and makes it almost impossible to breathe. My nose burns and feels as if I am to never breathe again. 

       “Mother!” I yell with the biggest smile on my face until I see her. She is covered in dirt and gunk and looks like crap; it could literally be crap.

       “Ohhh, Darling! I’ve missed you very dearly.” Mother stands there with her arms out like she is trying to reach all the way around the world, waiting for a hug.

       I pick my dress up to my knees, which is very unlady-like, and step very carefully around all the fungus, crap, and muck. I lean into Mother and give her an air kiss on each cheek instead of a hug. Mother guides me over to the bed, which honestly doesn’t look that bad. I sit there and gesture to the guards to leave. Once the guards leave and Mother is sitting calmly on the bed she and I talk.

       “Why is this place such a craphole?” I question as I give a very disgusted look.

       “Ask the guards. It was like this when I got here. Well, except for that.” Mother points to the corner with three buckets full of her waste, some of which had spilled onto the floor.

       “So all that mold and grime was already here?”

       “Yes. I think your father, stupid King Henry VIII, put me in here on purpose.”

       “How long have you been in here?”

       “About three weeks.”

       “Well you have about two hours until Father gets here.”

       “Yes I do. If you want, you can stay or you can go.” 

       “I will gladly stay; I will help you get ready.” 

       “Oh really?! Well, let's get to it.”

       I yell down to the guards to bring all the maids up here. A few minutes later a dozen maids are all ready to work. I say, “You two are going to get rid of the waste and get some fresh flowers.” I point at the first two maids I see. The maids rush to the corner and plug their noses and pick up one of the buckets.

       “You three, go get a nice underdress and make sure it is clean.” I point to the staircase.

       “And five of you clean up the dump.” Quickly all the maids let out a big sigh.

       “Can you two please get us some tea and crackers?” I question the last two maids standing. 

       “Absolutely Ma'am.” The two maids rush down the staircase. 

       In a matter of minutes the dress is laying perfectly on the bed, the tea is nice and hot, the prison cell is clean, the waste is taken care of, and the flowers make the room smell amazing. The maids and I help Mother get ready. I braid flowers into Mother’s brown, wavy hair, and she braids them into my red, curly hair. During the process we have lots of tea time. 

       “Just under an hour until Father gets here,” I say.

       “Just under an hour that I get to spend with you.” Mother bops my nose with a giggle.

       Mother and I spend the rest of the time talking, realizing how very much we love each other.

       The guards come rushing up the stairs.

       “The good madames and the good sirs are here; soon too will be the king,” they pant together out of breath. 

       “Please go downstairs, and we will be down in a second,” I say. The guards start trotting down the stairs.

       “Are you ready?” I ask.

        "Yes, but you have to promise me you’ll not watch,” Mother says with the most sincere look in her eyes. 

       “I promise.”

       Mother and I walk arm and arm down the staircase; the sweet flower aroma starts to fade, and Mother starts to cry. 

       At the bottom of the stairs the guards take Mother. They grab her wrists and walk her through the main gate. At that moment, I realize that guiding her through the main gate is some form of mercy that Father showed her. The guards guide her to the courtyard; the aroma of the flowers grows again, and they turn quickly around the corner. I shuffle my feet to catch up to them. All of the good madames and good sirs look in shock when they see Mother’s beautiful dress. 

       In the middle of the courtyard there is this wooden case, and I have no clue what is inside it. Mother gets chained to the case. I stand and look around; all around the edge of the courtyard there are flowers and shrubs. It makes me feel calm and relaxed about this whole thing. The good madames and good sirs stand a few feet away from my mother and the case.

       As I hear the clomping of the horses pulling my father’s carriage, I run to Mother and hug her and kiss her and tell her how much I love her. I stand there, holding Mother’s hands, crying until Father walks into the courtyard.

       “It appears as if I'm late!” Father’s voice booms throughout the courtyard. Everybody turns as if a cannon just went off. I don’t turn around and keep hugging Mother as tight as I can.

       “Good morrow, my ladies,” Father says as he passes by, making his way toward Mother.

       “Hail and well met all,” Father kindly says to the good sirs as if nothing is going to happen. At that moment I can’t even stand to be his daughter.

       “Where be the swordsman? His equipment was delivered here last night.” Father gestured to the case. The guards who are on the very edge of the courtyard start rushing in. 

       “He came here two hours ago, and we sent him away and told him to come back,” they tell Father.

       “Go outside the perimeter and look for him, you fools. I’d rather him be early than late,” Father yells. The guards run out of the courtyard. 

       Father walks towards Mother and I. Mother whispers to me, “Don’t ever forget how much I love you. I will always be with you. After this is all over, go into my cell and grab the locket under my pillow. Don’t make your father kill you too, and I bet he would. If he gets married again, don't ever speak of me. I love you so much!” 

       “I love you too. I promise to do as you say.” I can’t stop crying, and neither can Mother.

       I feel a big muscular hand squeezing my shoulder. I know it is Father, but I keep hugging Mother anyway.

       “Go up in the tower, Honey; you’ll be safe,” Father tells me. I start to step back from Mother. 

       “I love you, Mother.”

       “I love you too,” she says. I start running away from both of them into the tower all the way up. As I’m running up the thousands of stairs I can’t help but imagine what will happen to Mother. 

       I trip on my dress again, and I start to smell the flowers. I fall into the door that is half open and flop on the bed. I hug the pillow so hard I feel my arms shaking. I grab the heart shaped ruby locket and open it. Inside there is a note. 

My dearest Elizabeth,

I understand that this will be hard for you to grasp, but I didn’t deserve to die.  Your father accused me of treason along with my brother, George Boleyen. He was  killed two days before my execution date. I knew something bad would happen from  this, but I don’t deserve to die, and neither does George. I know your father is in love with Jane Seymour, so don’t ever speak of me again. I will always be in your heart.  You and I didn’t get to spend much time together; between my duties as queen and  your  schooling. There is so much more you need to know about me, and so much I wish      I learned about you. Please do as I say; first, keep this note with you; second, remove  the chain from the locket, and there should be a key; third, take the key and open the  box under my bed in the prison cell. In the box there is all the jewelry and little  trinkets I loved the most. A part of me is with each trinket, so please keep these things with you always. I will always be with you.

                                                                                             Love,

                                                                                             Your dearest mother

       I do as she says. I find the small box with beads all over it, and it shines beautifully in the sunlight. I open it, and there are a bunch of different little objects that all look so beautiful. I take time to look at each thing, and each time I can feel my mother. At the bottom of the box there is a book. When I look inside, it is my mother’s handwriting, and it must be her diary. I sit there, ignoring the fact that Mother is going to die, and read her diary while dripping in her beautiful jewelry. 

       “KINGGGGGGGG!!!!!!! SIRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!” I hear from the cell ten stories up. I rush to the window and see the two imbecile guards running into the courtyard. I listen very intently to hear, “We couldn’t find him; we looked within a mile radius of the tower. He may have never left; he could still be here.” 

       “Well then look on the grounds.” Father rolls his eyes and mutters, “God! It’s like you two don’t use your brains.”

       The first place one of the guards looks is around the perimeter of the courtyard, which has a narrow hallway running around it, and another runs up the tower.

       Soon I can hear clomping feet that sound louder than the horses.

       “Have you seen the swordsman?” the guard pants.

       “No, it’s not my fault you're bad at your job,” I state. In my mind I believe that Father is showing mercy to Mother again. By hiring a swordsman instead of an executioner, she will die more quickly and suffer less.  

       He runs back down the stairs, and I hear, “HA! HA! HA!” I rush to the window, and I see the swordsman, the one who will kill mother. He is tall and skinny and is in black rags.

       “Your guards really display idiocy. And so do you,” the swordsman says as he walks in from the perimeter of the courtyard, talking to Father.

       “You dare insult your king?!” Father yells in his face.

       “Just tell me who I am here to kill,” the swordmens asks.

       “My ex wife, Anne Boleyn. She is over there.” Father points to Mother.

       “Are we ready?” the swordsman questions.

       “Yes.” Father and the swordsman walk toward Mother.

       “We are all gathered here today to witness the beheading of Anne Boleyn for the crime of treason with her brother, George Lord of Rochford, who was executed two nights ago,” Father says. The swordsman opens the case and pulls out a sword and starts to sharpen it.

       “Ready?” Father asks the swordsman. The swordsman nodds his head.

       “3, 2, 1!!!” Father yells. I sprint away from the window into the pillow and sob until my eyes burn. I can’t bear to watch even if I hadn’t promised Mother I wouldn't. Even though I’m not watching I can still hear the beastly shriek Mother let out.

       “MOTHER!!!” I cry, panting, trying to not choke. I sit up in my bed and look in the mirror. My eyes are bloodshot, and my pupils are dilated. The sun is on the horizon. I grasp my mother’s locket and say, “I love you Mother.” I jump out of bed, fall to the floor gracefully and dive under my bed. I find my mother’s box and pick out what jewelry I will wear today.

       My red dress with embroidered roses and many layers of silk is hanging up in the sunlight. It shines like the morning sun hitting the dew on the grass. 

       Within an hour I’m ready for the execution of the peasant who tried to break into Richmond Palace. He deserves everything that comes to him.

       I start to walk down the staircase, and I hear chains rattling across the grounds.  Once I’m at the bottom of the staircase, my eyes come across the distraught peasant. 

       The executioner waits on the grounds where the peasant is, and the people of the court and the townspeople gather around.  I walk towards the swell of people and announce, “I, Queen Elizabeth, with the help of the people of the court, have decided to execute Edward for the trespass of Richmond Palace.”

       “Ma’am, are you ready?” the executioner questions with the ax in his hands.

       “Yes. 3, 2, 1!!!”

-Morgan R.