Anne Boleyn's Ghost

by Archer, Liam

  Though the letter is heavily worded with regard to Anne Boleyn, there was no denying the graveness of what she was being accused of. He was clearly performing a balancing act at the time he wrote this, at the same time being deeply shocked by the news. On the one hand, he felt it highly unlikely she was guilty, given the sacred role she carried out. On the other, he knew what lengths Henry went to get rid of his first wife, Catherine, when she had failed to give birth to a son, and no doubt this had happened again with Anne … so whilst imploring the King to be truthful, as this time he was putting virtuous lives at stake (not something Henry took much concern over, if the people involved were an impediment to his will), and that he would be putting his own soul at great peril if lack of truth sufficed – if Cranmer didn’t watch his words and play along with Henry, he would come down on him like a sack of stones if he thought his trust in him was wavering.

  The Accused are Heard

  May 12th 1536, the trials had begun at Westminster Palace. Four of the five accused men were being heard by the King’s Privy Council. Anne thought she knew the reason why Smeaton was so willing to tarnish her reputation, and was cursing herself for the day she believed had led, or had contributed, to the hopeless position she and five innocent men now found themselves in.

  The real reason why she was being kept prisoner and possibly facing execution, there was no doubt: Henry sought to remove her, by any means necessary, as she had failed, like Catherine before her, to give birth to the child and heir that would have insured the family tradition of passing down the throne from father to son.

  It was over a brief conversation that had taken place when Anne had stopped by Smeaton in her home and he was looking out of a window and appeared to be upset. It ran like this.

  ‘I spoke with him on the Saturday before May Day,’ she said. ‘I found him standing in the round window in my chamber of presence, and I asked why he was so sad. He said: “It was no matter.” Then I said: “You may not look to have me speak to you as I should to a nobleman, because you are an inferior person.” And then he said: “No, no, Madam. A look sufficed me; and thus fare you well.”’

  Smeaton had longed for Anne Boleyn to notice him, ever since he had had the privilege of a being within her house. It was this plain inappropriateness, if not downright fool-heartedness, of Smeaton openly exhibiting his feelings for her at every chance he could, and Anne having sensed this for some time and feeling it was time to confront him, was what had made her react so snidely towards him that day. But it appears Smeaton didn’t take her remark so well; and less than a month after Anne had insulted him (nevertheless spurred on by Cromwell), he was sitting before her in court, accusing her of having slept with him and four other men.

  Anne went on to slander Smeaton openly for his falsehoods. She scorned him so severely and with unshakable fury, he lost all composure. His whole body shook, and his heels bounced energetically off the floor without rest. He could no longer manage to look at Anne Boleyn, nor the members of the Privy Council, for that fact, but endeavored to engage them when spoken to, only to cower in his seat like a child who knows he has done something very wrong.

  The accused were unable to say anything that might prove them guiltless. Now they could only wait to live out their fate, and be no more than puppets in the King’s dark scheme. All of them, apart from Smeaton, were men of high nobility; yet it was Smeaton who was being given all the credibility of someone who had unquestionably high rank. All the accused had pleaded not guilty, as they found themselves not only charged with liaising salaciously with the highest woman in the land, but with plotting to kill the King, as well!

  With Anne no longer around, Henry’s new lady in waiting was Jane Seymore. She was staying in a house situated along the River Thames, a little more than a stone’s throw away from Westminster.

  After the day’s tedious trials, Henry would get into a small boat and casually row himself up the River Thames to see Jane, who waited patiently for him to arrive at the home of Sir Nicholas Carew. Everything was once again going the King’s way, and he was eager to celebrate this turn of luck with his new mistress.

  His covert trips up and down the river, however, didn’t go unnoticed for long. Before he knew it, the locals had caught on to his nightly, watery strolls, and, each evening, would look on from their homes as the King drifted slowly past, seemingly unaware to their protruding, incredulous eyes.

  In due course, rumour spread, and soon it was the talk of London Town, before eventually the story made it as far away as Devon and Lincolnshire. The nation was wondering: ‘Surely the King isn’t sneaking off during the trials, to have an affair with a new mistress, while the Queen is locked away and possibly facing execution on charges of adultery? Or could our leaders actually be so innately licentious…?’

  This caused a gradual shift of feeling in favour of Queen Anne, as suspicion of the King – already deep-set since his first questionable divorce; had broken away from Rome; and had declared himself Head of the Church of England – firmly rooted itself in the land.

  Four of the accused were sentenced by the Chancellor to be hanged, drawn and quartered (though their sentences were later changed to the less severe punishment of beheading, either because Henry had shown mercy on them as bitterness swelled all around him, or because of the wishes of the Archbishop). That foolish man, who went to have dinner with Cromwell that day, had been betrayed; and soon he would be dragged from his dungeon, accompanied by Norris, Weston, Brereton and Lord Rochford, to be beheaded for the base entertainment of the capital’s populace.

  Anne and George Boleyns’ trials took place three days later, on May 15th 1536. The public’s knowledge of the King’s secret visits to his new mistress, while his imprisoned wife and Queen fought for freedom, brought in to question the King’s motives, and of the validity of the charges against Anne Boleyn and those of nobility, which had been wrought by one petty individual of no distinct blood.

  The Tower’s officials had no choice but to rearrange where their trials would take place: now there was too great a danger of a riot happening if Anne or George were moved from the secure walls of the Tower. Therefore, they would not be moved: they would be tried and sentenced within the Tower of London.

  Anne Boleyn’s Signature

  *

  On an elevated platform in the courtroom a single chair was set for Anne Boleyn. The Court’s peers of the realm had assembled. Twenty-six of them were selected by the King himself to pass judgment on Anne Boleyn; all of them had been chosen for their reliability to fulfill the King’s agenda.

  A knock on Anne’s chamber-door announced Kingston’s presence; a lieutenant waited quietly by his side. As Kingston opened the door, Anne turned her eyes to him. She seemed unaware he had knocked, and was sitting on her bed peering out the window on to the sodden, hopeless grounds apparently lost in thought, when he said, ‘The Court waits, Madam …’

  Having been led to the Great Hall, Anne Boleyn entered the cavernous and dimly lit courtroom. She felt the weight of something ominous and bodeful all around her. It was almost suffocating her. The Lord Mayor of London, alderman and jury stood before her, and only sat back down again once she was seated. The Duke of Norfolk stood under the cloth of estate, suspended prominently in the centre of the room, holding a grand, richly-adorned white staffe and gazing malevolently all the while at his niece. To his right, in the very centre of the room, stood the Duke of Suffolk, who was of higher rank than him; and to his right stood Lord Awdley, the Chancellor. In front of them stood the Earl of Surrey; his son and heir in front of him holding the golden staffe for the Earl Marshall. Everybody took their seats. And with Anne’s bewitching countenance lightening her uncle’s blackened mind, he spat out the charges to her with relish.

  ‘Despising her marriage and entertaining malice against the King and following daily her frail and carnal lust. On the 6th of October at the palace of Westminster, and various other days before and after, by sweet words, kissings, touchi
ngs and other illicit means, she did procure and incite, Sir Henry Norris, a gentlemen of the Privy Chamber of our lord the King, to violate and carnally know her, by reason whereof the same Henry Norris on October 12th violated and carnally knew her.

  ‘Two counts of adultery took place on the 13th and 19th of May 1534, with the said Mark Smeaton. Four counts of adultery took place on the 8th and 20th of May and on the 6th and 20th of June 1534, with the said Sir Francis Weston. Two counts of adultery took place on the 12th and 19th of November 1533, with the said Sir Henry Norris. Four counts of adultery took place on thee –’ a look of mock-disgust and loathing showed on his long pallid face as he rolled parchment lethargically, looking for the right dates ‘… oh yes: four counts of adultery took place on the 16th and 27th of November and on the 3rd and 8th of December 1533, with his lordship, Groom of the Privy Chamber, Sir William Brereton.

  ‘And I mustn’t forget,’ said the Duke disdainfully, ‘three counts of incest with your brother, George Boleyn, all of which took place on the 22nd and 29th of December the year of last.

  ‘What does Her Grace plea…?’

  ‘I am innocent …’ Anne sighed and sensed the futility of her words, barely saying them loud enough for anyone to hear but herself.

  ‘Does your Grace need the question to be uttered once more?’ said the Duke of Suffolk after a long silence.

  ‘Not guilty!’ she cried.

  The jurors glanced and murmured at one another as they came to their final verdict, causing a low uneven hum that echoed throughout the Hall; quick awkward glances were made at Anne, like shy school boys who were required to pass judgment on their teacher; and the emphatic shaking of heads by a handful of the jury, in a halfhearted attempt to portray their disbelief. The Duke of Norfolk was given their verdict, and he methodically read the heartrending sentence to her.

  Because thou hast offended against our sovereign the King’s Grace in committing treason against his person, the law of the realm is this, that though hast deserved death and thy judgment is this: that thou shall be burnt here within the Tower of London on the green, else to have thy head smitten off, as the King’s pleasure shall be further known of the same.

  In the deathly silence that followed, Anne tried to come to terms with her fate. Her breast heaved as she struggled to restrain her sorrow. As her heart slowly began to settle inside her, and she came to a strange sense of calm, she breathed, ‘Oh God, thou knoweth if I have merited this death.’

  Addressing the Court that was now formless through her tears, Anne spoke. ‘My Lords, I will not say your sentence is unjust, nor presume that my reasons can prevail against your convictions. I am willing to believe that you have sufficient reasons for what you have done; but they must be other than that which led you to this judgment, for I am clear of all the offences which you then laid to my charge. I have ever been a faithful wife to the King, though I do not say I have always shown him that humility which his goodness has to me, and thee honours to which he raised me, merited. I confess I have had jealous fancies and suspicions of him, which I had not discretion enough, and wisdom, to conceal at all times.

  ‘Think not I say this in hope to prolong my life, for He who saveth from death hath taught me how to die, and He will strengthen my faith. Think not, however, that I am so bewildered in my mind as not to lay honour of my chastity to heart in mine extremity. When I have maintained it all my life long, much as ever as Queen I did. I know these, my last words, will avail me nothing but for the justification of my chastity and honour. As for my brother and those who were unjustly condemned, I would willingly suffer many deaths to deliver them, but since I see it so pleases the King, I shall willingly accompany them in death, with this assurance, that I shall lead an endless life with them in peace and joy, where I will pray to God for the King and for you, my Lords.’ And far from floundering in her gait, she rose from her chair and strode quietly out of the Hall, accompanied by Lady Kingston and Lady Boleyn at her side.

  Prior to proceedings, the King had ordered that all the documents produced during Anne Boleyn’s trial were to be destroyed as soon as it had finished (though her indictment survived and is preserved in the Public Record Office, as well as a few writings that were apparently forgotten about in the home of Thomas Cromwell). It leaves no doubt that her trial was entirely void of merit.

  George Boleyn’s trial swiftly followed. As he was brought forward to the Great Hall he looked imploringly at Anne, trying to make eye contact with his ghostly white sister as she passed. Knowing he would suffer the same sombre fate, she didn’t say a word, and only just acknowledged his presence by half-raising her tearful eyes to him, and walked soundlessly on.

  Determined not to address the Court respectfully, as soon as George entered the Hall he cursed the wickedness of man, and had to fight an overpowering urge to spit on the floor. Incensed, his uncle stared at him with a poisoned expression on his face, and read the charges to him with a distinct growl in his throat.

  ‘Thou has committed incest … Thou has committed treason … Thou has plotted to kill the King!’

  There were rumours the King might be impotent, but to suggest it would be considered a grave insult and wouldn’t go unpunished. George, however, was in the mood to have a stab at the King. In the end he was fortunate not to suffer the cruelest death a man could be condemned to.

  The Court’s silence was shaken, and the jurors grumbled to one another as they decided what was to be his fate. His uncle hastily read their verdict and condemned him to be hanged, drawn and quartered in the village of Tyburn.

  George was dragged from the Hall, writhing and shouting foul words of abuse at his wicked uncle as he went. His final days were spent behind the thick cold walls of the Tower deprived of food, water and light.

  Final Days

  On May 17th 1536, Smeaton, Norris, Brereton, Weston and Lord Rochford were lead by the Yeomen Warders (nicknamed ‘Beefeaters’ because they were permitted to eat as much beef as they wished, on the King’s purse) to the Block. Lord Rochford’s sentence had been changed to beheading in the final hour: the King having been pleaded with by the Archbishop to show him mercy. Mark Smeaton was first in line as he had pleaded guilty.

  The sun hung high above the Tower, and the air stood still. Smeaton almost walked himself on to the scaffold, and approached the headsman genially. And like a man of the theatre, Smeaton proclaimed to his audience, ‘Masters, I pray thou shalt all pray for me, for I have deserved thee death!’ And without a glimmer of fear in his eyes he promptly positioned himself in place for the headsman standing silently and threateningly before him; though it didn’t trouble Smeaton in the slightest, who seemed to be quite enjoying himself.

  Bemused, the small, chubby executioner picked at the blade of his axe with his thumb, and ran a finger lightly over the top as he felt for its sharpness. Looking down, he surveyed Smeaton, seeing where best to strike the blade on the back of his scrawny neck.

  Smeaton looked sideways to see if he was almost ready, as he had been taking awhile.

  Then, without warning, the axe came storming down behind him like Thor’s War Hammer, producing a low pitched whoosh as it broke through the air around it. At long last Smeaton felt a ghastly wrenching sensation inside him as the weight of the axe’s thick, ice-cold iron entered his neck, severing his vocal cords. His head fell limp and dangled precariously from his shoulders, his neck spurting plumes of blood.

  After a second blow it tumbled extravagantly along the ground. Several rolls later its momentum ceased and the headsman bounded forward to collect it and held it up proudly – like some kind of shining trophy – for all to see, and placed it, almost lovingly, into a bucket-like vessel at his side.

  Half the crowd cheered emotively, yelling ‘traitor!’

  Cromwell smiled sinisterly out of view.

  A few ravens bounced happily on the Tower’s stone as Smeaton’s headless body was dragged from the Block (a thick trail of blood marking his path from his sti
ll convulsing heart).

  Next up was the venerable Henry Norris – the man who had requested to duel with the King in defense of Anne’s honour. His final words were, ‘I would rather die a thousand deaths than be guilty of such a falsehood.’

  George Boleyn said a far longer and more personal farewell.

  You all, and especially you my masters of the Court, that you will trust in God, and not on the vanities of the world, for if I had so done, I think I had been alive as you be now; also I desire you to help to the setting forth of the true word of God; and whereas I am slandered by it, I have been diligent to read it and set it forth truly; but if I had been as diligent to observe it, and done and lived thereafter, as I was to read it and set it forth, I had not come here to, wherefore I beseech you all to be worker and live thereafter, and not to read it and live not thereafter. As for my offences, it cannot prevail you to hear them that I die here for, but I beseech God that I may be an example to you all, and that all you may be made aware by me, and heartily I require you all pray for me, and to forgive me if I have offended you, and I forgive you all, and God save the King.

  Sir William Brereton said, ‘The cause whereof I die judge not. But if thou judge, judge thee best.’

  And lastly, Sir Francis Weston’s final words were, ‘I had thought to have lived in abomination yet these twenty or thirty years, and then to have made amends.’

  Barrels of water were tipped to wash away the thick pools of blood that the ravens had begun feeding on, and the dead were buried, along with their heads, in two adjoined graves, and one not, in the chapel’s graveyard. Everyone that had come to witness the bloody spectacle that day had not cheered when the heads of the others were raised by the headsman. It wasn’t as if they weren’t used to seeing these sorts of gruesome acts carried out, and were horror-struck by it; it was the fact that almost all the condemned men had not confessed their guilt, which was not a good sign that the trials were carried out justly. The public’s suspicion seemed validated, and anger for their King was once again at boiling point.