The Murder of Anne Boleyn I

Commend me to his Majesty and tell him that he hath ever been constant in his career of advancing me, from private gentlewoman he made me Marchioness, from Marchioness a Queen and now that hath left no higher degree of honour he gives my innocency the crown of martyrdom. Anne Boleyn

The nineteenth of May, 1536. The sky blue and the weather warm: perfect weather for spring. Not far from here, birds sing their courting songs and the sweet fragrance of budding flowers compete with another sweet but sickly smell: the smell of corrupting flesh.

At long last, the carpenters have put down their tools, content with their handiwork. For many days they had laboured to build a high scaffold. Very soon a once Queen of England will climb its steps, prepared to take her final breath. The King's Executioner has been very busy of late. Only two days before, Henry Norris, William Brereton and Francis Weston had taken turns to bare their necks for him.

Yesterday had seen him busy at work again; before he flexed his muscles and swung his axe, George Boleyn, brother of the woman soon to meet her doom, spoke his final words to the crowd come to watch his death. Some cried when they heard him say:

"Trust in God and not in the vanities of the world; for if I had so done I think I would not have found myself here before you condemned to die."

George Boleyn and all the men tried with his beloved sister went to their deaths bravely. Today, many in the crowd wondered if it would be likewise with the woman. Coming to the Tower after her arrest, there had moments when her courage deserted her. No one, not even the man who signed her death warrant, was ever sure of what this woman would do. Some wondered if this was indeed the crux of the matter, and it was really this uncertainty that had brought her and others to this dreadful, bloody end.

Her execution, the last for a time, was set for the ninth hour of the morning. But the carpenters' work had not been completed. Before all became still, the bell rang out the eleventh hour. By noon, people gathered to watch another murder take place.

It was time. Followed closely by two attendants, Anne Boleyn, her head held high, mounted the steps to the platform. When she reached it, Anne Boleyn turned to face the crowd, amongst them stood two Dukes, one a King son and the other his brother-in-law. All the men here were carefully invited 'guests' of the King. One of these guests said later that he had never seen her look so beautiful. One of Anne's attendants came to her, helping to remove a dark-grey damask cloak. Beneath this, Anne wore an under-dress of deep crimson. She nervously stroked her slender neck.

Go To Page: 1 2