Brief Gaudy Hour: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (49 page)

“Give me a moment more, kind Kingston,” she entreated. “Dear God, give me strength!”

And then, trying to compose herself, she closed her eyes. “
Miserere mei, Deus. In te, Domine, speravi
. Into Thy hands I commit my spirit!” she prayed over and over again, through rigid lips, still kneeling upright.

But though she tried desperately to fasten her hopes on Heaven, her senses were sharpened to the sound of every movement behind her.

A stealthy rustle in the straw, an approaching footstep. Quick as a warned, defensive cat, Anne swung round to her left from whence the sound came. But only the shock-headed young assistant stood there, empty-handed, advancing close upon her in feigned action, obedient to his master’s sign. Anne’s eyes, protruding with terror, stared up into his. Her brain recorded a vivid picture of his callow, countrified face. Momentarily, her head was turned, her attention distracted.

And in that moment, mercifully, the French executioner swung his sharp sword and struck.

THE END