The Last Boleyn(145)

“Do not be angry, Staff.” She sat beside him on the bed. He draped his arms over her shoulders and pulled her gently to his side.

“I am not angry, love. I only hate myself every time I think of you left behind here with the vipers. Lately, my Mary has taken quite good care of herself, but I hate not having you and the babe out of here and safe.”

“But now we must tell them, so then we shall see.”

“Yes, sweetheart. Then we shall see. I am exhausted, Mary, and had best be back by supper. Will you lie beside me here?”

They cuddled in the middle of the bed, Mary on her back and Staff on his side facing her with his arm under her head. She put his open hand on her belly. “See, my love, he moves about more than ever now.”

“Or she,” he said sleepily. “I still would not mind a miniature of your Catherine. Is she well at Hever? I know how much this summer will mean to your mother having her there again.”

“She is quite well. But all men want a son, Staff.”

“Yes, and I also. But there will be time for at least another child before you begin hobbling around on a cane,” he teased. He opened one eye then the other and stared at her fine profile. “Is there something else besides having to face them that is troubling you, Mary? Have you not come to terms with your father’s last wretched scheme to use you as bait?”

“No, Staff. It is not that. But there is something that has been haunting me. I have dreamed of it, Staff.”

“Tell me.” His eyes were wide awake on his tired face.

“While the court was away on progress—the first week you were gone—word came here that after Sir Thomas More was beheaded on Tower Hill, the king’s men put his head on a pike on London Bridge and gave his family only the trunk of his body for burial.”

“Look Mary. It is only another indication of how terrible the times are and how far the king has sunk into the mire of treachery. Sir Thomas More may have been His Grace’s loyal advisor and friend these years, but the king turned against him completely when More dared not to sign the Act of Supremacy declaring the king head of the new church. I do not doubt that the king or Cromwell told his henchmen to make a clear example of More. Fear not for his body being separate from his head. The Lord God has need of men with the moral strength of Thomas More on resurrection day whether their heads be buried with their bodies or not. You must put the whole awful thing out of your mind.”

“I cannot. How can I? You do not, and I know you blame yourself that we all signed the document like sheep. But that is not all.”

“What more?” He sat up cross-legged on the bed facing her, leaning over her, intent.

“After his head had been there on the pole a week, for they say it was guarded that long and by then the crows had been at the eyes and...”

“Mary, do not torture yourself with this.”

“I must tell you, Staff. After a week, it hardly looked like a man’s head. But then, when the guards dispersed, his eldest daughter Meg Roper...”

“Yes, the tall girl. She married a lawyer in the king’s household.”

“Staff, his daughter loved him so much that she went out at night in a boat to London Bridge and bribed the keeper of the bridge to drop his head to her. She took it in her skirts and carried it home in her lap to bury it with his body. She loved him so much, she did that!”

Staff’s big hand reached out and curled around hers, clenched at her side. Her tear-filled eyes still haunted by the wonderment of her own words of Meg Roper sought his face.

“I am sorry, Mary. It is a fearsome thing, but you must not carry these thoughts around with you. For the babe’s sake, at least.”

“I have prayed for Meg Roper, Staff. I have written to her, too, telling her that I admire her courage and her love. I apologized that the Boleyn family had any part in bringing her the loss of her dearly beloved father.”

“Lass, you cannot go about the kingdom trying to gain forgiveness for the Boleyns. Do not put that burden on yourself. You are not a part of them and will be well rid of them soon. Your mother we shall keep close. The rest will be most difficult to hold over the years. There is always some sort of disaster brewing on the horizon around your father and I will have you and the child well rid of it.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have changed my mind. This is no time for sleeping. They have returned from a triumphant trip through the central shires and even testy Anne is in a good mood. The prospect of a child has returned the glow to her cheeks, and she was hardly booed at all along the way. His Grace has dreams and hopes of a legitimate son again and has sweet Madge to serve his every whim while he waits for the heir’s arrival. We shall tell them now before supper, before someone sees you and all hell explodes.” He began stuffing his breeks back in the tops of his boots.

“Still, I will send the letter to Meg Roper, Staff.”

“Fine, love. Send the letter. But you must cease to carry guilt around with you for your family’s actions or your disappointment in the father you love. Fetch a pelisse to cover yourself. I will not have your sister screeching at us before we can present it to them calmly first.”

Though the day was warm, Mary wrapped a loose blue pelisse around her shoulders and arranged its folds carefully. Staff kissed her and sent her on ahead, through the crowded halls to the queen’s privy chamber and said he would be along to join her shortly, after he had told the king and begged his indulgence. “If you can keep from discussing it with your sister until I arrive, do so. Do not play the heroine, for I want to be there. And if the king walks in with me, do not panic,” Staff had instructed her moments ago. His last words went over and over in her mind. Do not panic. I will be there.