I went into the washroom tent that they had set up for the ladies to put my hair up and splash my face with water. The Italian sun had risen to its peak in the sky and the heat had started to bear down on the attendants of the summer revels. As I was gathering my hair to wrap it with a ribbon, Catherine walked in, her face glowing with a smile. Once she saw me, she stopped in her tracks, the smile fading from her face and her features rearranging until her expression became a cool mask.
“Your Grace,” she said sharply, inclining her head instead of curtsying. I watched her reflection in the mirror I was in front of as she walked stiffly over to the sink beside mine. She washed her hands while I put up my hair in silence for a moment, and then I turned to her and started.
“What is it you think you’re doing with the king?” I asked indignantly. She did not even flinch.
“Something Maria could never do, please him. And in the future, near future, I will give him sons,” she replied arrogantly, placing her thin hand over her flat stomach.
“You will never succeed, you will not win at this little game you are playing,” I said, anger seeping into my matter-of-fact tone.
“Just you see. Just everybody wait and see. I have him in the palm of my hand, and soon, I will be beside him on the throne of Italy, at my rightful place as Queen,” said Catherine defiantly, in the surest of sure tones.
“Ha! You fool! You honestly think you can overthrow a Queen whose birthright was the throne of Italy? I advise you to retreat while you still can, because if you do not your family shall fall so far that they will never be able to rise again.”
Catherine’s eyes flared angrily, “It has been done before! Women not even of the same caliber as me have successfully overthrown withering queens from their places, and now, so will I! I will rise higher than anyone thought possible! I will be Queen!” she finished in a huff and started to march, head held high, over to the tent’s exit.
I smiled grimly at her vanity as I turned back to my reflection in the mirror.
“You’re right. Women in the past have been able to overthrow Queens from their rightful places in the past. Anne Boleyn was one of those women. But, you remember what happened to Anne Boleyn in the end, don’t you?” I sneered with a triumphant grin spreading on my face.
She froze in the front of the exit at that, remembering. She did not turn towards me, but her high head came down a little. That pleased me, so I continued.
“If you make one wrong move,” I looked away from my reflection and dead at Catherine, “heads will roll.”
Her back tensed for a moment as she stood there, then she walked out of the tent rigidly, her head noticeably closer to her chest than usual. I turned back to the mirror, put on a charming Swan smile, and walked out of the tent after her.
