Anne Boleyn – Her Final Walk – Lisa Misak [Short Story]

Todays first post is very fitting, as it’s a story about Annes last moments, from Lisa Misak! Let her know what you think! Personally, I feel it was beautifully done. I feel like these could have really been Annes final thoughts.

Final Thoughts by Lisa Misak

“It is time, my lady.” 
     Time? I thought as the voice stirred me from my reverie, piercing my thoughts as the thin shafts of sunlight through the small window pierced my grey tower room. 
     Time?  I remember when I believed I had all the time in the world at my fingertips.  And now…  I turn before allowing myself to finish that thought. 
     “Master Kingston?” I ask.  “Will I be permitted to speak?  Before th- the end?”
     “Yes, my lady.  His Majesty has given his permission to allow you to speak.” 
     “His Grace has once again shown me mercy,” I comment, trying to keep the contempt from my voice.  Silently I add, ‘Jesu, please help me hold my tongue while on the scaffold, for Elizabeth’s sake.’
     I turn to Master Kingston and the guards, and my ladies, who will accompany me to the scaffold, and give a slight nod.  It is time. I am ready. 
     The sunlight is blinding after being incarcerated in that dismal tower room.  I blink rapidly so my eyes do not water.  I will not go to the scaffold with tears in my eyes.  I will not show weakness.  I may not have been born a noble but I will die with the dignity of a queen! 
     I should be praying for my soul, but my thoughts go to my daughter, Elizabeth.  Oh, my darling child!  To lose your mother so young!  Will you remember me?  Will they even speak of me to you?  Who will comfort you when you need it?  Who will you trust?  Who will be there for you when evil cunning surrounds you at the court?  Will you even be at the court?  Or will your father, the great King Henry VIII, forget you?  Or banish you from his presence as he did the lady Mary all those years ago?  I may not be a foreteller or seer, but somehow, I know that you will one day rule, and you will be a strong and wise leader.  And this comforts me. 
     The noise of the crowd drags my attention back to the present.  The scaffold is in sight, and the crowd is large.  So many here to see the show.  Come!  See the great whore who cuckolded the King get her just reward!  I am sure some of them are here just for the entertainment, some probably just out of curiosity.  None to support me. 
     Oh, George, my beloved brother!  What were your final thoughts?  Were they of Hever Castle and our carefree days as children?  Of mother and how her heart must be breaking?  Of father?  Did you despise him?  Did you think of Mary, or our early days at court when our star was rising and everyone wanted to be in our circle?  Or of the later days when court intrigue and dangerous schemes seeped into our very blood? 
     Counting my way up the scaffold stairs:  one, two, three.  Oh, dear Jesu, please help me with these final steps, these final few minutes of my life.  I look up and notice how beautiful the sky is.  I hear the weeping of my ladies-in-waiting.  Then I notice the block, my head’s final resting place.  I once had the smoothest of velvet for my pillow, yet the last place I will lay my head will be a hard block of wood. 
     My ladies approach to help me prepare, but I cannot think.  I had rehearsed what I wanted to say in my mind a dozen times, but I cannot think!  ‘Good Christian people’…?
     Oh, to hold my Elizabeth once more!  Will I see her in heaven?  Will I see George?  The children I lost?  What of the men executed for not signing the Act of Succession?  Or Katherine, my rival in love and queenship?  
     I cannot explain it but I feel as if time is slowing.  One last gift from the Almighty as I remember my life, or is it a curse.
 I can see Hever Castle as clear as if I was there.  Mother, my beautiful mother in her herb garden, pointing out the different plants to me.  Some for cooking, others for healing.  Things every good wife should know.  Watching a much younger Anne, running and playing in the field with George and Mary.  We had our entire lives before us. 
     Mary, my beautiful sister, who I both loved, and hated. Did you ever know that there were times I hated you for your sweetness and beauty?  Attributes I knew I could not possess.  Oh, Mary, have you been told of George’s death?  Only now do I understand the pain and anguish you must have felt having your son taken from you when I made him my ward.  Only now that I have had Elizabeth ripped from me can I understand.  I’m sorry.  I wish I could tell you how sorry I am.  Keep safe, Mary, away from court.  I now believe you are the most intelligent of all the Boleyn siblings.  You are the Boleyn who will still be alive. 
     Father, when you brought me back to England, I thought it was to marry my Irish cousin.  Little did I know you would use me as you used my sister.  As a commodity to be traded for power.  How could you abandon George and I?  I pray God will punish you for what you did.  And still you are my father, I love you still. 
     Katherine, I can say now that you were a true queen.  To see every day your rival, the woman who stole your husband’s love.  And you bore it with quiet dignity.  If I had only learned the lessons you were taught as a child of nobility mayhap things would have turned out differently. 
     Oh Henry, what happened?  You took my love, Harry Percy.  I hated you!  Even after we married a little part of me hated you.  I learned how to love and to hate from you.  I am innocent of all that I am accused.  Do you know that you have spilt innocent blood?  Do you care?  I heard the whispers, that you love that Seymour girl.  You do not love her.  I don’t think you are capable of love.  You lust after her, just as you did me.  Except we are not the prize you wish to win.  No, your prize is a son, an heir when you are gone.  I wish I could have given you a prince.  How different my life would have been. 
     I feel myself brought back to the present; the swordsmen, my ladies, the block. 
     I have clarity and peace.  I know what I will say; my final words.  Distractedly I wonder for a moment if they will be recorded for the King to read later.  Will they be remembered?  Will I be remembered?  
     It is time.  I am ready.  “Good Christian people…” 

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I'm a lover of all things Tudor, and historical - fiction or fact. My aim is to bring together writers of all calibers to share their work with like minded people!

4 thoughts on “Anne Boleyn – Her Final Walk – Lisa Misak [Short Story]

  1. Putting yourself in the mind of a character, whether real or fictional, is always the test of a good writer and Lisa has managed this so well, throughout a very tense and difficult situation. Anne must have had so much going through her mind in her last hours, but the fate of her daughter must have been uppermost – and growing up knowing that her father had ordered the executuion of her mother would have been almost incomprehensible to Eizabeth as a child. Whether Anne had envisaged her daughter ruling England one day is an interesting slant but rule she did, becoming the last of the Tudor monarchs and one of the longest reigning in our country’s history.

  2. I have just now got around to reading this story, I think it is excellent! Whatever her ;ast thoughts were, I am sure Elizabeth dominated them. You have done a wonderful job of sorting out the many thoughts Anne must have had.

  3. I have just now got around to reading this story, I think it is excellent! Whatever her last thoughts were, I am sure Elizabeth dominated them. You have done a wonderful job of sorting out the many thoughts Anne must have had.

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