Page 104 of Six Wild Crowns

“It is not your concern.”

“It was after the war with Alpich started,” Princess Tudor says.

Queen Aragon hisses, but Tudor, still kneeling at her mother’s side, gazes up at her, her hands clutching Aragon’s. “I want you to be cured, Mother. I just want you to be well.”

The two of them have another of those silent conversations. Boleyn thinks, longingly, of a time in the future when she and Elizabeth might have such a connection.

“It started soon after I came to Elben,” Aragon finally admits. “But I lost the use of my legs two years ago, yes.”

Boleyn flushes. The war with Alpich started two years ago. Now she comes to think of it, the rumours of Blount’s illness began then too. He used them to try to conquer Alpich. And what of Lothair? Is that why her sickness has spread so quickly? She was the one who encouraged him to go to war, after all. She thinks of Howard, scratching her scalp. They could have worked this out so much sooner if they had only talked to each other. But none of them were willing to admit that their bodies are wasting away. The fear of judgement and ridicule was too strong.

Aragon whispers to the princess, and she fetches her more wine.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Boleyn says. Aragon would be more shocked if this was news to her. “You knew all along. Why are you allowing him to kill you?”

Aragon passes herguirnalda, the beads of her religion, from hand to hand, so that her next words become a prayer.

“I am his wife. It is my role to sacrifice for my husband. Humble, loyal and true, that is what your people say, is it not?”

Boleyn shivers. For an instant, she wonders what kind of woman would remain loyal to her husband after such a betrayal. But she, perhaps alone of all the other queens, understands Aragon. Love, combined with faith, makes even the greatest humiliation seem like a noble sacrifice.

“You may go now,” Aragon says, before sipping the wine that Princess Tudor hands her. “I trust you will be comfortable in your rooms before you leave tomorrow.”

“If you speak a word of this to the king…” Boleyn says.

“You will do what?” Aragon replies.

Boleyn casts around for a credible threat. If she and Aragon are more alike than either of them would care to admit, then Aragon will have the same weaknesses.

“My network will inform Elben of your condition,” Boleyn says.She could go on, paint a portrait of the future – Henry’s public disgust, international ridicule, but that is too cruel even for Boleyn.

“I have nothing to hide,” Aragon says, but she pulls at her blankets. She will not tell.

The princess stands in front of her mother, a bodyguard as well as a nurse. Boleyn addresses her next.

“If you want to save your mother…” she begins.

“My mother will save herself, if god wills it. And if he does not, I will mourn and honour her as a true daughter should,” the princess says. Obstinate, destructive loyalty. Boleyn has no patience for it.

At the door, Boleyn tries one last time.

“I think there will come a time when you regret your devotion to our husband, Queen Aragon. Your wedding gift is very beautiful, and very rare. But I wonder – was it a gift, or a bribe? Because you are clever. Too clever to play consort when you could be equal. Why are you settling? Because of some special silver? Is that truly who you are?”

There is a long silence. Boleyn is not going to get an answer. She’s about to open the door when Aragon’s voice halts her.

“Would I be equal, though, Queen Boleyn? Or would I be another consort? A lesser queen to you and your daughter?”

“What do you mean?”

“You are an ambitious woman. Who’s to say that you will not wrestle control of the kingdom away from my husband, only to take control for yourself? Until you can prove to me that you truly work for all the queens, I will gladly die before I join your cause.”

PART THREE

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Her Majesty Queen Boleyn of the Palace of Brynd, and His Majesty King Henry, eighth of his name, cordially invite you to the

Four hundred and ninety-ninth

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