Present May 19th 1536
“Anne” Mary Boleyn Stafford said as she tied the corset to her sister’s gown, “I cannot help but wonder if there was ever a moment while you were aiming to be Queen where you actually sat down and thought maybe….it was a bad idea to reach too high?”
Anne Boleyn, once Queen of England, looked in the mirror and frowned. She was known to be a woman who was overly intelligent compared to other females of the age but yet when it came to love she failed to actually sit down for a moment like a humanist thinker and ponder….was aiming for a spot on the throne really the most intelligent and logical idea? And now she looks back and believes her intelligence had fallen to that of a bar wench.
“Yes I did,” She lied as a French hood was placed over her head.
She couldn’t even tell her own sister the own truth she was that embarrassed. There was a knock on the door causing Anne to make a deep sigh.
“It’s time isn’t it,” She muttered as she walked towards the door Mary following behind, “I might as well go willingly. The sooner this is over with the better.”
Sir Thomas Cromwell was usually a calm and stoic man in every situation. He usually handled situations like this one with dignity and patience. But today, he was panicking. He could feel the sense of dread run through every single bone in his body.
“Seriously would you stop pacing back and forth you are making me dizzy,” Lord Thomas Moore said sitting calmly in the comfortable red chair with a goblet of wine in his hand. The man, who as a humanist was fascinated about the movements and intentions of others, was obviously observing him.
“Keep your mouth shut Moore,” Cromwell grumbled still moving back and forth in a dizzying pace, "I admit it, I'm a wreck. I vowed to myself I would never marry again and yet the King is forcing me to marry against my will. "
Moore sighed and took a sip of his wine, before placing his goblet on the side table. Many expected that the one aspect of Thomas Cromwell that the infamous man of all seasons would despise would be his strong devotion to the Protestant faith. It was only a minor truth. Reality was he despised the fact was their lives were almost parallel to one another and yet instead of looking at his tragedies as something to strengthen him, Thomas Cromwell used it to wallow in his own self pity.
It irked Moore so, especially since while everyone did not know the details Cromwell's history, they knew it was one of rags to riches.
"Do you always ignore opportunities to happiness?" Moore inquired, "or do you just want to perpetually miserable?"
Cromwell stopped dead in his tracks and snapped his head towards the other man. He was glad to have a man like Thomas Moore as a friend but sometimes he did nothing but enrage him.
"Perpetual misery? Alright if the king wants me to marry, then fine I am his obedient servant. But his former wife he just divorced!"
"Well I was in the same situation with Katherine and four years later we have a very strong and happy marriage."
"Of course you do! But is there ever a moment while you ride your way into Spain, she pretends that she is fucking Henry."
Moore shot up like an arrow being released from its prison.
"I beg your pardon!"
And just as the two men were about to engage in a battle of harsh words the door to the private room opened.
"Lord Cromwell they are ready," A servant said before bowing and walking out the door.
"This is your fault Moore," Cromwell growled and before Moore could even utter a word he began to walk out the door.
As he walked the corridors his mind wandered to the events that led to this.