Anne Boleyn reached the top of the scaffold stairs and stopped in front of the executioner. She leaned in to him and whispered angrily “Is this the only form of employment you could find”? “How do you sleep at night, you scum-bag”?
“Usually on my back, M’lady, but sometimes I do tend to kind of revolve like a pig on a skewer”.
Anne glared at him, fisting her hands, wanting to knock him clear in to France.
As Anne stepped away from the executioner and faced the crowd, someone in the crowd started laughing
“You there” said Anne. “How dare you laugh at a time like this”!!!! “This is serious business”.
“Well”, replied the man “Had you not fooled round’ with the King whilst he was still with Queen Katherine, you’d not be standin’ up there, now, would ya”. “Serves ya good”. And he spat at Anne.
The executioner could see the spittle running down Anne’s face, so he took a rag from his pocket, tilted her face up, and proceeded to wipe her face clean. Anne was enraged and slapped his hand away , at the same time pushing him, so he landed on his back, on the ground in front of the crowd. The people were going crazy, laughing, jostling each other, screaming. Anne chose this time to sit down on the block and have herself a good cry. One of her ladies in waiting knelt down beside her and held Anne to
her, cooing “Oh, poor, poor Queen Anne”, mistress Simpleton cried. “My poor, poor Queen”.
Riders could be seen approaching from a distance, and Anne jumped back to her feet, hoping it was the King with a pardon for her.
“What the damn hell is going on, here”? shouted Henry. “I thought you’d be long dead by now”.
“What is this, then, a party”? The swordsman stepped in front of Henry’s horse, and tried explaining the situation. Henry bellowed “Who the hell are YOU”?
One of the Knights Of The Cumberbund leaned over to the King and said “Your Majesty, that would be the executioner”. “Notice the hood over his face”.
“Ahhh, yes, well. Be about your business, Sir”. “This woman should have been dispatched afore this time”. All of Anne’s crying and pleading was for naught. King Henry turned his horse on a wooden nickel and
out of the court-yard he sped.
“Beg your forgiveness, M’lady”, and the executioner bowed to her.
“Yea, what-ever, Anne replied. “Tomorrow is another day”.
And as she spoke those words, a picture of another woman who looked strikingly like herself came in to her mind. And she thought she heard someone in the crowd say “Frankly M’lady, we don’t give a damn”. With that the executioner raised his sword and did his job. A woman standing right in front of the scaffold
yelled “Off with her head”!!!! And her husband was leading her away, saying “Idiot….she be already dead. Her head rollin’ round’ on the ground”.
The crowd dispersed, the executioner dried his eyes, and the ladies in waiting rushed down the scaffold steps so as not to be late for the banquet that afternoon.