Elizabeth Tudor- Ancestry of Sorcery

by Theresa Pocock

  It took me no time at all to suggest that she help me perfect my German by conducting all our remarks in that language. Thus, we spent many happy hours conversing and debating. I will say I did improve remarkably. My love of stitching was small, but in those hours, I did complete several Christmas gifts for my family and household members.

  One night, not too long before we were to be on our way back to Hatfield for Christmas, Anna asked, “Do you play any instruments? I feel I have heard you have a love of music.”

  Enthusiastic, I responded, “Yes! I do have a great love of it.”

  “Oh, how wonderful. It is so quiet here, I would love you to sing for us.”

  “Of course.” A lute was summoned, and I played and sang all the old German songs I knew.

  Anna stopped her stitching. She closed her heavily-hooded eyes and tilted her pointed chin upward, as if in the bounds of pure joy. It filled my heart with love for the music that much more.

  Every day, as I sat, I thought of my mother. I couldn’t help it. Anna liked the quiet, and though she was open enough to conversation, she did tend to sit hours on end with not a breath of a comment leaving her lips.

  In this, I pondered all I’d learned about myself and my family. I wondered at how my maternal line had planned out so much of my future. How they had such great expectations for me and how in all the world could I see them completed.

  I wanted to try out my power of persuasion on Anna as I had on Kat, but the only thing we disagreed on was how long one should sit poking one’s fingers with a needle before one moved on. (Truth be told, I had also improved in my embroidery. A fact I suspected was the entire reason Kat had not packed us up and moved us back to Hatfield sooner. The woman would make a real lady out of me at any cost.)

  Still, one morning, as the sun filtered warmly through the window and the fire cracked merrily, I knew I needed to be out of doors on such a glorious day, and I decided to give my powers a try. I had no idea how to start besides pulling the light to me, which I did.

  Then, turning to Anna, I said, “Look at the beautiful morning it is. I would very much like to go for a ride.”

  Anna looked out the window as if for the first time since taking her station in the chair. I waited for the ball of light, but nothing happened, and Anna answered. “Yes, it is lovely. Not many more like this before the ice and snow stops all riding.”

  I tried again. “Let’s go out. We could walk the grounds or something else…?” I left it invitingly. And I still did not get a reaction from my power.

  “Oh no, dear. I don’t go out until the afternoon on days such as these. It will still be cold now.”

  I sniffed and thought that cold was exactly what I wanted. I wanted my breath to freeze as it left my mouth and nose. I wanted the wind to whip my hair into a cold tangled bundle. The idea of spending another morning and afternoon in this room angered me. “Anna, you will come on a ride with me. Now.” I said it with force and with will, and a ball of light the size of an apple pulled itself away from me and rushed across the space and air between us, hitting her fully in the face.

  She was putting her needlework down within half a moment. “I do feel a ride would be fun. Let’s go.”

  I blinked, startled, and a slow smile gathered round my lips. I could most certainly use this power for good.

  December 1542

  Hatfield House, Hertfordshire

  We only stayed a fortnight at Hever, and I knew my time there would be forever etched into my heart. I had come to the knowledge of who I was. I had gained a dear friend, nay, a beloved aunt (for father called her his beloved sister) in Anna, and I had come to know more of my mother and maternal line. All and all, I was very happy, and I felt a sense that I had uncovered a great mystery and been on a fairly grand adventure for a girl of nine. So, coming home to Hatfield at Christmas only broadened my joy.

  I had rather hoped that Father would invite us to court, but no such invitation came. The letter that we did receive from Father held wonderful news about my tutelage, however. Father decreed that I would be sharing lessons with Edward until a proper tutor for residence at Hatfield could be procured.

  I was to join him at Ashridge in January.

  The joy that filled my heart bubbled out of me in the form of an excited giggle. “Thank you a million times for writing Father, Kat, for I cannot believe my good fortune. I will be studying with the prince and he is bound to have marvelously sophisticated tutors—not that you aren’t sophisticated, Kat. Of course, you are. Also, my favorite of all people will be there.”

  I understood now that the ball of light that caused such a ruckus with Kat when last I was with Robert was the gift my mother spoke of, namely influence. I had to wonder if I, with all my hoping, had used this same gift to in some way bring about this change in tutelage. I admitted to myself I was a little hesitant to experiment with my gift, for I had no one but Kat to use it on. I would not use her again in such a way. It frightened me.

  Kat looked at me with confusion, “Your favorite of people? Will your father the King be there, my Lady?”

  I had not been speaking of Father, but of Robert. Ashamed, I realized I’d forgotten to tell Kat about Robert going to Ashridge.

  Feeling the need for honesty, I said quietly, “I wish Father were going to be there. Alas it was not him I spoke of, but Robert.”

  “Oh, I see. Robert. Well that is a lucky turn of events. How is it that Robert is going to be there?”

  “He told me before he left that Father had asked him to study with Edward and be his playfellow. I can remember when I had playmates. It was a long time ago when I was still under his favor. I wish he would have asked girls here to be my playmates recently.”

  Kat looked a bit abashed. “I think the reason no one has come to play with you and share your tutoring is because it was I that was giving it. I have thought why your Father would neglect you in this way.” Kat paused, considering, and I couldn’t help but think that perhaps my mother's gifts had indeed reached into my future and influenced us all. I heard Kat sniffle. “All I can think,” she continued, “is that no one wanted to come, for then they would have me as a teacher, when there are so many more prestigious teachers out there.”

  “Or, perhaps they did not want to live with the bastard child of the King and Anne Boleyn, a girl exiled from the king’s presence for the last two years. Besides, I think word has gone about that I am of a bad disposition.”

  I winked at her.

  She laughed and wiped at her eyes. “Yes, you are horribly disrespectful and an overall git at your studies,” she answered playfully. But she sobered quickly. “I still fear our biggest problem is my lack of credentials. In this age of information, higher thinking, and educated intellects, I am not much in demand. I do not know what I would do with myself if you did not insist that I stay in your household.”

  There was a bit of desperation in her voice and face.

  The tears had returned as she spoke, and I pitied her.

  “Kat, as long as I am here to torment you, I will do it with pleasure. And I expect you to endure it the best you can, for I will never be without you.”

  A smile lit up her face, “You blessed girl. I would not leave you even if I should marry one day. I feel as though you are the child of my heart, and how could I leave my only child?” She wrapped me in her arms and hugged me tightly.

  A few weeks ago, this statement would have brought such happiness to my soul, but now I wasn’t certain how it made me feel.

  I had a mother. An amazing, powerful mother, who had done all she could to help me. I had her to think about now. I had my future to think about. A future my mother had seen and planned out so carefully for me.

  She had set me on a path and it was my job and responsibility to learn all I could. To experiment and grow, not only in scholarly ways, but in this new way. As a Fillos. It was my birthright.

  I smiled at Kat, but also to myself, as I thought of going to school with Robert and Ed
ward and the others; what better place to have such a power than in a schoolroom filled with boys? Boys of noble birth, no less? Boys that would think me the least of them.

  I might just learn how to use my powers for evil after all.

  Of Moon and Mind

  Episode 1

  December 1542

  Hatfield House, Hertfordshire

  So much occupied my mind since returning from Hever. The idea of my mother, Anne Boleyn, a sorceress, the journey her power had taken her on, and her plans for me. My own power. My father finally softening toward me. Robert and Edward as schoolmates and playfellows. With it all, I admit, I was a bit flighty as Hatfield prepared for the hard winter months—the weather was so cold and rainy that we could not wander at all out of doors—thus my situation did not help my state of mind.

  Christmas could not come fast enough and the distraction of preparing for the holiday was welcome. Master Parry, Emma, Blanche, Kat, and I decorated a beautifully proportioned pine that young Henry, the gardener's son, so stalwartly braved the out of doors to cut for us. We adorned it elegantly—I spent days crafting paper and string bobbles— and we ornamented the hall at Hatfield to look like a festive church. Roasted savory meats on the spit in the middle of the room and laying out pies, breads, and sweets to fill the tables, was my joy. All the fragrances blended together, making the perfect Christmas aroma.

  Once the day of the birth of the Savior arrived, some of the younger children put on a small nativity play, and I played the lute, while we all sang holy carols and exchanged gifts. It was a marvelous evening.

  The next morning one of the kitchen maids, Jane, went into labor. The whole house seemed to stop running when a baby was born, but I usually did not pay too much attention to the process. We would discuss when the pains started and when they ended, and after the child was washed and dressed I went with a gift.

  However, Jane’s screaming started around midmorning and did not cease until nightfall the next day. They needed Kat’s help with the baby, so I was mostly left to myself.

  On the second day, I decided I needed to go looking for Kat.

  Finding Jane’s small room, I quietly opened the door and instantly smelt and saw copious amounts of blood. I also saw a white-faced woman who was naked except for a threadbare nightdress, which was gathered around her breasts.

  Her legs were spread open and a man was digging in her private area. He pulled and pushed at her misshapen belly and tugged on something that looked disturbingly close to a miniature arm protruding gruesomely from between her legs.

  Jane’s eyes were still as the man did his work, and she did not respond to the women bustling around her, wiping at her forehead, patting her hand, and saying comforting words.

  I became sick. Luckily there was a chamber pot outside the door next to a mound of bloodied clothes, for I vomited right then. When I noticed the pot was also full of blood, tears and vomit came simultaneously and in abundance.

  A few minutes later, after I had taken a few steps away from the door, I heard someone come out of Jane’s room. It was Blanche, but she did not notice me, for the moment she was out of the door she had pulled her partially bloody apron to her face and began weeping into it.

  I ran back to my room, thinking all the way of the mortality of man—for though I had not seen death before I knew it in Jane’s face—but far more than that I felt an overwhelming fear of the situation itself and committed my mind then and there that I would never put myself into that fatal condition.

  Kat came back to our rooms a few hours later and she was haggard-looking and white. I thought I heard her say under her breath, “Never seen so much blood.”

  Her lips were tight, and she probed me with her eyes when I asked, “What happened?” One part of me really did not want to know the details because I knew I would see the pictures in my head, but another part of me needed to know so that I could make sense of the carnage I saw.

  “Both Jane and her baby have died in the birth.”

  “What happened? How did they die?” I asked with real sadness in my voice.

  “Doctor Flyn says the baby was turned sideways and he could not get it turned back around. Even… after…he could not get the baby out. It must have been too big or perhaps it was caught.” She looked at me and stroked my hair, “Sometimes these things happen, my Lady. Do not be alarmed. It is all in the hands of God.”

  I had not been great friends with Jane, for she had only become a part of my household a year ago, but I had had many nice conversations with her and had enjoyed her stories, so this information did make me extremely sad. I did not understand how God could let a nice woman like Jane die in such a horrid and embarrassing manner. And what of the child? I shivered, and bile again rose in my throat.

  “Kat, is it wicked of me to say that I never want children?” I asked her as I told myself I did not care if it was wicked or not.

  “Yes, child, I think that it is, for God told us to multiply and replenish the earth, and, if you are married, you should have children.”

  “Well, I guess that settles it.”

  Kat looked down at me, interested. “Settles what?”

  I took a deep breath before I admitted how wicked I really was. “I just will never be married.” I did not wait for Kat to register her shock. I hurried on. “All I have seen of the institution is negative, and now I do not want to have children, for though I have seen many happy outcomes, the ones that are bad are truly horrific. I simply cannot imagine the inducement.”

  She narrowed her eyes as if I had just admitted to seeing the sight. I hurried on. “You tell me that in God’s eyes they go hand in hand, and although I know that someday I may wish to marry, I think it will be an easy thing to remember that marriage and children come together. So, I will just as soon stay single like you, Kat.” Kat huffed, and I had an idea. “Why can I not just be like Father and have lovers—lots of them. They could all simper and buy me gifts and say pretty things, but I wouldn’t have to marry any of them or bear them children.”

  Kat instantly turned a bright shade of red. She had attempted to talk to me of the relationships between a man and a woman, but she was fastidiously shy, so I had gleaned all my knowledge from pieces of random conversations, and I felt like I understood relations between husband and wife. Truly, it all sounded annoyingly complicated to me, but I accepted the fact that every person I knew seemed engrossed by love. It was reason to follow that I would probably feel the same someday.

  Kat continued to blush as she said, “It does not work that way, Elizabeth. Shame on you, girl. The very thought is reprehensible.”

  “How so? Father has had many mistresses. Is that reprehensible? I should think not, or someone would tell him, or at least the women would refuse, wouldn’t they? And if Father can do it, then why can’t I?”

  “I had not realized fully until this moment how truly small your world is. How little information you have on these subjects and, by being tied to me—one who does not discuss these matters—what a disadvantage you have been at. Please forgive me and let me try my best to explain.”

  She sat down and looked at me, but before she even started talking, she blushed again. She opened her mouth and closed it, blushing even deeper, and sighed. “Perhaps we should have Blanche talk to you about this. I cannot believe that I have not thought to do this before now. Wait here. I will return in a moment.” She got up swiftly and left the room.

  Before long, Blanche, with her prematurely gray bun, simple dress, dimpled chin, and bright green eyes, walked confidently into the room, all traces of blood and tears gone.

  “Well it seems as though we need to discuss the facts of this life and the reasons God has made us the way he has made us.” She walked up to me and lifted my chin to stare into my eyes. “I believe it is past time. Shame on Kat, but better late than never. Now, I am hoping this has nothing to do with the boy you pranced around with this summer.”

  Now it was my turn to blush. I could feel the
heat in my cheeks, though I wasn’t exactly sure why. I had never thought of Robert as a lover—Robert kissing me or peppering me with serious flattery in the way of lovers. Though if there was someone to do the job, why not Robert? He’d do it properly. I suppose I did get all funny when I was around him—but kissing Robert? The idea never had occurred to me.

  I cleared my throat. “No, Miss. This has nothing to do with Robert Dudley. I simply was wondering why I had to get married instead of having lovers like my father.”

  Blanche’s face turned stern. “That is a dangerous subject for us to breach. Heads have flown for lesser statements, as my Lady well knows. But what I will say is that any priest will tell you God’s word on the subject. Women are to be virtuous. We must keep ourselves clean before God and for our husbands. This is what Christ taught us. And in a union of virtue the man and wife are for one another and none else.”

  “But husbands do not have to keep themselves clean for wives? I am sorry, but this is not making me feel any better.” My natural instinct was to rebel against the hypocrisy.

  “It is a protection for women and children that God gives this command, my dear. If any female has relations with a male, she is the one in jeopardy of becoming with child. It is a good and natural consequence of the act. Moreover, after she has a baby, she must take care of it. What would that be like for the sad young woman with no husband to support and care for her and her child? What will she do? You see the problematic situation.”

  I did see, but I was different. “Well I have plenty of money. I would be able to take care of myself and a child, if I were so unfortunate as to have one.”

  “Yes, my dear, until your father takes it all away because you have disgraced yourself and your family by becoming pregnant out of wedlock.”