I ever did revile the name of Anne Boleyn as a usurper. She took the place of our rightful Queen, the good Queen Catherine. She has haughty and proud and it did not win her many hearts. But, for as much I did not think her fit to be our Queen, I certainly did not believe her guilty of the crimes she died for. I was not sure how I would feel being witness to her execution. Surely enough a great many innocent people had lost their heads on the scaffold. And though I thought her innocent of the crimes she came that day to die for I felt her guilty of others.
As she mounted the scaffold she did so with Queenly dignity and she spoke with composure. When she knelt down to receive her punishment I did not want to watch and yet could not take my eyes from her. The sword moved swiftly as she murmured prayers. I felt she looked right through me momentarily and then all went dark.
I had fainted as her head fell from her body. I did not see it hit the boards and roll in the straw, but I saw her ladies wrap it carefully in a white cloth and carry her away to her final resting place. Walking away I felt justice had not been done that day.
By Julia A Strouse