Christmas was only a week away, and Anne Boleyn was in a quandary as to WHAT to get King Henry. He had been so very, very good to her, and she wanted to surprise him with something wonderful. He had enough horses, so he did not need another. The King had more clothes than a fashion designer, so that was out, as well.
Henry was going to be away for the next several days, so Anne had ample time , as well as privacy, to come up
with something. Alas, she just could not put her bejeweled finger on what that something was. Then, out of the blue it came to her. She had been sitting in front of the fire in her room, gazing in to the flames. Wax candles of the King, herself, and the babe that was on the way. That was it!!!!! Life-size forms of the three of them. Oh, what a superb, glorious idea!!!! She knew of a chandler, a young woman in the village just three or four miles away. Anne, excited to finally have a direction, called to one of the boys from the stable and told him to get her horse ready for her…she had an errand to run.
The weather was rapidly deteriorating as Anne slowly walked her horse down a narrow , rutted road. Snow was falling, and the temperature seemed to be dropping. A fox darted across the road, sending her mount into a frenzy, throwing Anne off, then escaping into the trees in the other direction.
A good time later, Anne was lying prone on the cold hard ground, and blood was coming from a cut on her head.
The sound of a carriage could be heard in the distance, and as it rounded the bend, several riders held up their hands for the driver to stop. It was the King and his retinue.
M’Lord, it is Her Majesty….she is hurt.
Henry came flying out of the carriage , ran to Anne and gently touched her all over, searching for injuries. She was out cold, and the wound on the side of her head continued to bleed.
Back at the castle, the King was pacing in his bed chamber. Anne had been seen to by Dr. Waters, but there was not much that could be done. In the days of the 16th century, medicine was a far cry from being what it would
be in the next hundred years. It had been five hours since Henry had brought her back home and roused the Dr. to come immediately.
We just have to wait, your Grace. The cut on her head is not deep, so there is good news. But the Queen may possibly have struck her head a hard blow. We just have to wait. I know this is extremely difficult.
Hours went by, and light started to come through the leaded glass windows of the bed chamber. Still Anne
did not stir. Getting down on his knees at Anne’s bedside, King Henry prayed to the God he had always worshipped as a child, then as a young man, and, now as a King. A horribly frightened King. Lord, this Christmas would mean nothing without Anne. Please, Dear Lord, bring her back to me.
Henry must have fallen asleep , lying half on, half off of the huge bed. He felt someone touching his face. No
doubt one of the ladies in waiting trying to get him to come round. He was so very weary. It was a struggle to
open his eyes, but when he did, he was looking in to the beautiful face of his Anne. She was awake!!!!! She was
trying to say something.
Shhhh….Sweetheart, be still. You are going to be fine.
I wanted to find the best Christmas surprise for you Henry. I wanted to……and she drifted back to sleep.
Oh, Sweetheart, you have given me the greatest gift of all!!! You have come back to me. Nothing could ever match that. Merry Christmas my beautiful Anne.
Snow was falling outside the castle, the night was as clear as could be, Anne would be allright, and Christmas was in less than a week. Miracles truly did happen at this time of year.
1 thought on “A Tudor Christmas Story by Pat Getz”
A wax figure of the King, what an unusual idea. If it was life-size it would burn for an age 🙂 Merry Christmas