The Rise of Anne Boleyn

Queen Catherine grips the intercepted letter. Mere minutes before in the hands of her lustful husband. Snatches of syntax rise from the page.

The pain of absence… Stricken with the dart of love… Your servant…

What woman is this to reduce a King to a slave?

The letter falls from Catherine’s fingers to the floor. She tramples it as she walks to the mirror.

A matronly figure from multiple miscarriages. A deep furrowed brow. The accumulative impact of the dereliction of duty. A redundant ruler.

Let this hidden jewel prove her value now. Catherine smiles. I’m ready to be alone.