“I loved the man,” murmured Henry. “I… as well as the others. It was not my wish that he should die. God bear me witness. I loved him.”
His Queen came in.
He was not pleased with her. She had not brought him all that he had desired. She had filled his heart with jealousy and his mind with misgiving.
He had noticed a quiet, pale girl among her maids of honor. Jane Seymour was her name; and although this young woman was modest, she had shown that she was not unconscious of the King's regard.
The King lost control of his temper suddenly as he looked at his Queen; and he was filled with fear because the murder of a great and good man lay heavily upon his conscience.
“You have done this!” he shouted at his Queen. “You have done this. You have demanded of me the death of a good man and, God forgive you, I have granted your request.”
8
THERE WAS NO SOUND ON THE RIVER BUT THAT OF THE oars as they dipped in the water.
The stars in the July sky scintillated like jewels in the doublet of a king, and the outline of hedges was clear along the banks.
The bridge and its ghastly relics came into view.
The boat stopped and, when Margaret alighted, Will was beside her. He put his arm about her.
“Meg … Meg … you still insist?”
She nodded.
“ 'Tis a dangerous thing to do, my darling. I know not what the penalty would be if…”
“I know not either,” she said, “and I care not.”
They walked away from the rivers edge up and on to the bridge.
“Meg … go back to the boat. I will do it.”
“Nay. 'Tis my task and mine alone.”
The air of the hot summer's night caressed her face as she stood on the bridge and firmly grasped the pole in her hand.
“Meg, you torture yourself.”
“Nay,” she answered. “Let be, Will. Let be.”
And together they pulled down the pole, and they took that which was set upon it.
Margaret wrapped it tenderly in the shawl she had brought, and, putting his arm about her, Will led her back to the boat.
Tenderly Will Roper watched his wife and swore to cherish her until the end of their days. He and their children between them would give her such love that Thomas himself, looking down from Heaven, would smile upon them and bless them.
Now Margaret stared before her, her arms about the shawl which held that terrible and precious relic.
London Bridge was behind them, and they went swiftly up the river to Chelsea.