Condemned Death

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
I know, lovely title. Please enjoy, my twist in Anne Boleyn's marriage to Henry VII, written by me in 7th grade. Please also excuse the fact that it is kind of...well...long.

Submitted: January 18, 2012

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Submitted: January 18, 2012



“Excuse me, but do you by any chance know where I can find the witch Deyanira?” Josetla jumped at the sound of her “fake” name.

“I am right here sir, what business do you have with me?” Josetla asked. The young lord looked around nervously.

“Is there a place where we can talk privately without anyone hearing us?” he asked. Josetla nodded and beckoned for him to follow her. The lord wrapped his cloak tighter around him. Josetla led him to the back room where she normally did her spells.

“Is this private enough?” she asked him. The lord nodded and sat uncomfortably down on the bench in front of the table. Josetla sat across from him on a stool, “What brings you here sir?”

“My sister, the current queen of England needs your help in conceiving a son.” The lord blurted out. Josetla looked surprised.

“What would his royal majesty say if he knew that Queen Anne was sending her brother to consult a witch? Has the King proved himself to be unable to produce an heir?” Josetla asked.

The lord flushed angrily, “We are willing to pay for you efforts, if you can just give us a tonic or spell that can help Anne conceive a son.”

“I don’t have a tonic for son bearing, but if I can meet with the queen, I can say a blessing.” Josetla said.

“A blessing is not what we need! We need a spell, tonic, something!” the lord was clearly angry now.

Josetla smiled, “Very well, I will go to the palace tomorrow at midnight, be sure to be at the front gate to let me in, I will bring something that can assure a son.” The lord nodded and briskly got up and left. Josetla smiled again, “But you won’t like what I bring.”


An owl hooted in the night. Josetla wrapped her cloak around herself, hiding her face from the world. She made her way slowly toward the gates in the front of the castle. Sure enough, a figure was standing by the gate. She walked up to him and coughed softly. The figure turned, and quickly opened the gate and led her into the castle.

After walking for a while, the person knocked on a door and led her in. “Ahh… Mistress Deyanira, good, you came.” At the sound of Queen Anne’s shrill voice, Josetla threw her hood back.

“Your Majesty.” Josetla curtsied low.

“Do you have the tonic?” the queen asked her.

“No your grace; I don’t have a tonic to help you conceive a son,”

“Then why are you here!” Anne cut in sharply.

“I have a spell, a simple spell that can allow you to know the gender of you next child, but there are several things you need to know.” Josetla finished.

“Tell me.” The queen invited.

“The king cannot be the father of this child; you must find someone else that is willing to risk their very lives to father the next King of England. You must also give me something in return. Not money, something that is worth the same amount to you as your child.” Josetla allowed a wicked smile.

Anne’s face was white, but she replied, “Very well, now do the spell and be done with it!”

Josetla nodded her head. Raising her hands she chanted softly. She paused and walked over to Anne who drew away. Josetla gestured at Anne’s stomach. Anne slowly drew closer. Josetla pressed her hands on Anne’s stomach and sent shocks from her hands to Anne’s body. Anne cried out and then slapped her mouth. The light faded and when Anne could see again, Josetla was gone.


Anne touched her stomach, her child was growing bigger and bigger. It has been almost 6 months since Anne had seen the witch. That night she had lain with her brother who had winced and whined through the whole process. It took at least 2 hours before they had finally succeeded. And sure enough, 2 weeks later, her monthly courses didn’t come. Anne sighed, she was still scared to tell the king about this child. If she lost this child as well, all could be lost.

There would be a great ball in 2 months. She didn’t know if she could even attend. She had to tell the king about the child, no doubt he already knew. He could be boasting about it right now with his friends, and George would be flushing under his cap.

She had noticed that the King had been staring at several of her ladies. She knew what he would do, she had been one of those ladies and she wasn’t going to let what happened to Catherine, happen to her. She would tell him, tonight.


“My lord,” Anne softly said as he flopped down on the bed.

“What is it Anne,” the king asked turning his head slightly as she sat down on the bed.

“My lord, I carry your next child,” Anne said, forcing tears to flow down her cheeks.

“Yes, I have known,” the king said slowly wrapping his arms around her. “Will is be a son?”

“I pray so hard that it would be my lord, but we must let God decide.” Anne replied. The king nodded.

“Then I leave you madam to sleep comfortably tonight.” The king rose and left. Anne crumpled down on the floor. She hoped that witch Deyanira was right, that the child would be a son. Nothing about her seemed to interest the king these days.

In the middle of the night, she got up and walked to the servant’s door. A soft knock came again and Anne opened the door. George and Mary entered silently. Mary walked over to light the candle while George hung up his cloak. “Well, have you been able to reach her?” Anne demanded. “I have told the king already.”

“Sister, you speak too quickly,” George said. “But yes, we have reached Deyanira, she will be coming tomorrow night.”

“Why can’t she come tonight? NOW!” Anne said angrily. “I want to know now! For the sake of everything that I have gambled!”

“Anne, you mustn’t upset yourself now,” Mary gently took a brush and began brushing her hair.

“Deyanira is gone for the time, she is somewhere in Scotland aiding her fellow witches and warlocks.” George said.

“Then how will she get back by tomorrow night!” Anne wailed.

“Simple, she will come magically. If you can believe that the spell she did on you could help you produce an heir, you must believe that she can arrive by tomorrow night.”

“Don’t worry Anne, she will come. Now come, you must rest my queen. To keep England’s little king safe and healthy.” Mary guided Anne towards the bed.

Anne lay down, “England’s little king,” she whispered dreamily before falling fast asleep.

“She is too ambitious,” George said.

“Well, you can’t blame her, we Boleyns have always been ambitious.” Mary replied. “Now shoo. You don’t want Jane spreading little rumors about you now. I often sleep with my sister even though she is the queen, I will be fine, now go. Scat.” George chuckled as he ducked through the servant’s door.


Josetla walked into the queen’s room. The fire was blazing and the queen sat on a sofa near the fire. “My queen, you called for me?”

Anne turned around weary, “Yes. Mistress Deyanira, last time, you left without taking your reward. What is the payment? Name it.”

“My payment is that when the prince is born, I will be the midwife birthing the new king.” Josetla replied.

“The midwife. Yes, that would be fine. Oh and I have another question.” Anne said.

Josetla paused, “Yes?”

“Are you sure that England’s king will be born?” Anne asked.

“Are you sure that you can carry a child full-term and give birth to a healthy child?” Josetla answered.

“Yes I am sure. I birthed Elizabeth.”Anne said.

“But you lost two other children,” she reminded the queen.

“I am certain,” Anne insisted.

“The choice is up to you my queen. If you are certain, then your child will be born.” Josetla answered. She curtsied again and left.


She walked out into the gardens. “Silly queen,” she laughed. Then she made her way across toward the king’s chambers. She turned herself into a simple looking modest midwife.

Josetla knocked on the door, “Enter.” The king called out. She walked in with her head down.

“Ahh! Lady….”

“Anitane,” Josetla chirped.

“Lady Anitane. Well, I heard that you are the best of the best. Queen Anne is once again with child. She told me so herself. I want you to be the midwife birthing our next child. If anything happens, you must tell me.” King Henry said.

“My great king, what have I done to be present during the next King of England’s birth? I am honored.” Josetla said bowing low.

“Just do it.” The king said. He waved his hand at her, “You are dismissed, tell no one.”

Josetla curtsied and left. As she made her way towards her home, she thought, “The next king of England will be born 2 years from now.” Laughing she walked into her home and shut the door, waiting for the child to be born.


The ballroom was lit up with lights and laughter. Anne sat on her throne watching everything. Her white gown was stretched out in front of her. Her stomach carried the next king. She watched King Henry dance with her ladies. She frowned when he kissed a lady on her cheek. Then a huge wave of pain hit her. She doubled over in pain crying out in the process.

The hall went silent. Mary hurried over to her sister. “The child, it is coming!” Anne whispered into Mary’s ear. Mary nodded and helped Anne rise.

“My lord, Anne needs to rest,” Mary called over her shoulder. Nobody answered. Mary turned around to see the king watch Anne leave. She turned her head to view her sister’s retreating back. On the seat of the white gown was a small pool of blood. Mary blanched white and hurried after her sister. If this child was also lost, the whole court would know.


Josetla hurried into the room. “DEYANIRA! The baby is coming!” Anne wailed. Josetla groaned inwardly.

“Yes my queen, now breathe in gently and push.” Josetla advised. Anne wailed and screamed. Finally after 10 deafening minutes and small bloody bundle slipped out.

“Is it a son?” Anne asked, lifting her head from the wet pillows. Josetla wrapped the child in cloths.

“Yes my lady, but he is dead.” Anne wailed and grabbed for Mary.

“He is dead, my baby is dead!” Anne screamed. She grabbed Mary and shook her, “Why! Why can’t I give a child to the king!?”

“You gave him Elizabeth,” Mary said soothingly.

“A girl! A useless girl!” Anne cried. As Anne wailed, Josetla slipped out of the room and walked towards the king’s chambers. She knocked on the door once more.

“Enter.” Josetla pushed the door open. Seated behind the desk, Henry eyed the bloody bundle in Josetla’s arms. “Another lost?” he asked.

“Yes my lord, but the child couldn’t have lived anyway.” Josetla replied.

“Why Lady Anitane?” The king asked.

“My lord forgive me for saying so, but the child’s spine is sticking out from his back. His spine is split, he has 3 arms, and 4 legs. Anne has given you a demon for a child.” Josetla said, making her voice shake.

The king’s eyes grew so wide she thought it would pop out. “Has Anne consulted with the devil to bring me a son? Is she this desperate?!” he thundered.

Josetla pressed herself against the door, pushing it open slightly, “My lord I do not know.” Then she pushed herself out and ran.

“Do not speak of this to anyone!” the king yelled after her. Josetla ran back into Anne’s chamber.

“Let me see the child,” Anne said. “Let me see my son.” Josetla wordlessly handed over the demon. Anne unwrapped her son and screamed. Mary hurried over to her sister’s side. “A devil, I have been carrying a devil inside of me!” Anne flung the child into the flames. Mary stared at the burning figure until it turned to ashes. Anne fainted on her bed, while whispering, “I gave the king a devil, what is to become of me?”


Anne lay in her bed. “A devil. I birthed a devil.” She heard the king outside her room.

“I DEMAND TO BE LET IN!” he thundered.

Then she heard sweet Mary’s voice, “My lord, she is just as shaken as you are, please, let her rest!”

“She must have known about this! Consulting with the devil! She must have known this was going to happen!” he yelled.

“My lord, please. You are creating a scene!” Mary cried out.

“Catherine! Where is she! I need Catherine now! What good is Anne to me now? Mary! Bring me Catherine!” the king yelled.

“My lord please. I am begging you don’t mention Catherine’s name!” Mary pleaded.

“WHY?! She is my wife. The queen of England! Does she also dare to refuse her king?!” Henry shouted.

Mary sank down and wept, “My king, Catherine is dead! She has died over 2 years ago!”

Henry stopped his rant. “Catherine dead? Kate? You are lying to me!”

George hurried into the hallway. “No my king, Catherine is dead. You left her for Anne. Your real wife, Anne Boleyn. Anne became the Queen of England.”

Henry slumped onto the floor, “Kate, my Spanish Kate. How can she be gone? How can I survive without her? My companion, my most trusted advisor.”

“My lord!” a new voice signaled the cardinal’s arrival. “My lord, we heard a commotion.” Then he spied the king, slumped on the ground weeping. He turned towards George, “What have you done!? Our liege is lying on the floor weeping! This is not a good sign to England!”

“He is looking for Catherine.” George replied. The cardinal gasped.

“He has mentioned Catherine of Aragon!? It can’t be!”

“Yes, it is true. He searches for her even now. Anne isn’t going to last for long.” George sighed. He turned towards the king who was still weeping and bowed. “Come Mary, we must go tend to our sister.” Mary got up and curtsied low.



Anne stood in front of the council. The space where she used to sit, next to the king deciding on criminal’s fates was now empty. She was being tried by her own husband and she was being sentenced to death. That cardinal, if it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t be there standing next to the king. In a few minutes, he would be reading her sentence and her fate.

“Anne Boleyn, the King of England has decided your sentence. You will be beheaded in the Tower of London in 3 days. Your sentence is, you have consulted with the devil, bewitched your king, and practiced the black arts of magic and for treason to your king and your country. We now proclaim you guilty.”

Anne’s knees buckled down and she collapsed on the floor. She felt guards grab her and haul her onto a cart to be led away to the Tower.

When she woke up, she was already locked up in the highest room. She stared out the window. “There is no hope for me now,” she thought. Then an idea came, “Deyanira!” She ran towards the window and screamed, “The witch, it was the witch Deyanira that did all of this!!!”

But nobody heard her, or they heard her and refused to listen. A knock came from the neighboring cell. “It is hopeless sister. Don’t try to fight. Deyanira knows better than to hang around while you are being sentenced. No doubt when you are dead, she will return.”

“George! What are you doing here?” Anne cried as she knelt next to her brother, a thick brick wall separating the two of them.

“Sentenced for adultery to my wife and to my king. That fool, my own wife testified against me, saying that I had slept with you. Now the truth about Elizabeth’s real father is being spread. Some say that the king didn’t even father Mary! That he is an invalid and can only father children on his mistresses.” George muttered.

“Brother what will we do?” Anne cried.

“Wait for our death to come and hope that God will be merciful towards us.” George said. He fell silent.

“George?” Anne cried.

“Don’t get yourself worked up. Remember what Deyanira said? Whoever fathers that demon son will be risking his life? You made me do it and now I will die because of you.” George’s voice was cold and hard.

“George, you can’t really be blaming me!” Anne cried in surprise.

“Oh yeah. I am blaming you alright. I just hope that you will go away and let me spend the rest of my life in peace without you ordering me or Mary around. Mary was lucky; she left at the right time to be spared.” Anne felt George walk away.

“GEORGE!” she screamed and fainted once again.


Anne looked out of the window. 4 men were being sentenced to die because of her. She believed George’s theory now. She was to blame. Everything was her fault, from the time she looked at Catherine, sitting next to the king wearing that crown she wanted it. She wanted everything and she had got it. And now, she was paying for everything she had taken.


Her death day arrived. She was led into the streets by guards. She knew Henry was watching. She knew that he was waiting for the blade to be dropped on her neck, waiting for her head to roll off and blood to spill all over the bench.

The executioner stood his ground as she walked toward him. His face was hidden. She had no doubt that the king had hired a special killer to kill his “witch wife.”

Anne knelt down in front of the bench and placed her head on the bench. She offered a quick prayer to her family, to Mary, to England, and most of all to her darling baby, Princess Elizabeth. Then, the blade hit her neck and everything went dark.

Historical Note

Anne Boleyn was the second wife of King Henry VIII. She was known as a witch and was sentenced to death after birthing a devil. The witch in this story Joselta is completely made up. The events are real, but not everything in the story is true. It has been rumored that Anne consulted with a witch hoping to be able to give the king the son that he has longed for. There was another rumor that Anne has slept with her brother. This started after George Boleyn’s jealous wife Lady Jane Rochford testified against her husband. It is said that she hated Anne and wanted to see the end of her queen. She supposedly truly loved her husband and was jealous that he spent all his time with Anne and rarely any time with her. Anne was killed in the Tower Green in May. Her daughter Elizabeth was declared a royal bastard. Ten days after Anne’s death, King Henry married his 3rd wife, Lady Jane Seymour.


Josetla: alt

(She's the only character I have since she's the only fictional one. The picture is Adrianna from Sherrilyn Kenyon's Belador series. Looks really cool, plus she's a witch also.)

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