The Other Boleyn Girl
Chapter One
Spring 1521
I could hear a roll of muffled drums. But I
could see nothing but the lacing on the bodice
of the lady standing in front of me, blocking my
view of the scaffold. I had been at this court
for more than a year and attended hundreds of
festivities; but never before one like this.
By stepping to one side a little and craning my
neck, I could see the condemned man, accompanied
by his priest, walk slowly from the Tower toward
the green where the wooden platform was waiting,
the block of wood placed center stage, the
executioner dressed all ready for work in his
shirtsleeves with a black hood over his head. It
looked more like a masque than a real event, and
I watched it as if it were a court
entertainment. The king, seated on his throne,
looked distracted, as if he was running through
his speech of forgiveness in his head. Behind
him stood my husband of one year, William Carey,
my brother, George, and my father, Sir Thomas
Boleyn, all looking grave. I wriggled my toes
inside my silk slippers and wished the king
would hurry up and grant clemency so that we ... read full excerpt from The Other Boleyn Girl ebook
