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thought, If I am the cause for this suffering, I must amend it. Six of my children have died, Anne.”
    “And? Many lose their children,” Anne replied. “They do not repay God by committing grievous sins.”
    Henry stopped. “The Tower is overflowing with those who speak too freely.”
    Anne blanched and looked away.
    “England will not be secure until I have an heir. Good people, Anne, good people would suffer if I died without an heir and civil war broke out for the throne. How many children would die, leaving their parents to suffer as I have? It is unbearable.”
    He began to walk again. Anne followed.
    “I was determined to find a remedy. I read for days, taking no food or comfort until I had read every work or record pertaining to the matter. I went to the cross on my knees, bleeding and weeping for Christ’s revelation.”
    “My king, I am sorry….”
    “Anne, good Christian that you are, have you read Leviticus?”
    “I know my prayers.”
    “Leviticus states that no man must take his brother’s wife for his own, or they will die childless. It is a prophecy as sure as stone. The Pope granted a special dispensation for me to marry Catherine after her first husband, my brother, died. By doing so, the Pope has violated God’s law and called down a curse on my throne. I must be free of my marriage; it has violated God’s law. If I do not obey, God’s wrath will break out, and England’s sons will lie dead on a battlefield.”
    “Yet,” Anne countered, “it is not a matter between us.”
    “It is a very great matter between us. You met me on my pilgrimage, washed my wounds, and spoke words of comfort. You were an angel sent to comfort me in that time of great distress. You were my unexpected answer, a promise to me if I will obey.”
    Anne knew her temper was flushing her cheeks. “I will not speak of that night, nor will I speak of the future. I will speak only on what I know today. I have not read this book of Leviticus, but I know my prayers. You have a wife. I will never consent to be a mistress.”
    “Perhaps you should pray about it,” Henry replied, pulling out his dagger to cut a rose. He handed it to her without looking at her. “There is your family to think about.”
    “It is my family I think about. I will not partner with you to ruin our good name.”
    “I can save your name,” Henry said, his voice soft and delicate with the words. “Your family has secrets. Your brother … he does not have a taste for the ladies, does he?”
    Anne froze, cursing her sister silently for being so free with her body and words, letting this wolf through their door.
    There were two groups who suffered vile, violent deaths under Henry: heretics and unnatural men. It was great entertainment for the people to see such an offender hung until almost dead, then revived and tortured to death. Fear made a marvelous housekeeper for Henry, sweeping secrets neatly away and keeping a pristine order.
    “My brother is not your concern, my sovereign,” Anne replied steadily. “Let Your Grace consider only your servant Anne.”

    “Henry’s getting what he wants,” the Scribe said to me. “How does that make you feel?”
    “You already know,” I replied.
    “Oh, but I want you to write it down. It means so much more.”
    “I’m angry. Jealous. I didn’t get what I wanted, and I played just as dirty as he did.”
    “You got what you asked for. You stole David’s book.”
    “It wasn’t good enough,” I said.
    “It was his best.”
    “No! He could have done better.”
    “But he didn’t,” the Scribe answered. “He was working on a love story for you. It can never be written now.”
    I closed my pen and sat back in bed. The walls, the sheets, and even bits of my chart were scribbled over with ink.
    “I can’t do this,” I said. “I can’t write this book by wrenching my heart out for your amusement.”
    “You are becoming a writer.”
    He handed me back the computer, and the words lifted and