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pain overcoming her body, Anne repeated multiple times that she wanted to die as she could no longer endure that terrible pain.
    The midwife advanced from the foot of the bed and examined Anne. She placed her hands onto Anne’s swollen belly to feel the placement of the child. Anne’s ladies stood close to the bed. They looked back at the midwife who muttered something unclear to herself as she continued to move her hands. Anne heard many whispers around herself as the ladies discussed the progress of her labor and her pains. Their whisperings and lamentations sounded as though a hollow echo marking her death.
    “Will she be alright?” Lady Eleanor asked anxiously.
    The midwife placed the covers back over Anne and shook her head. “If the child doesn’t come soon, neither of them has a chance,” she replied sorrowfully.
    Lady Eleanor sat on the edge of Anne’s bed and squeezed her right hand. “My lady, you must be brave. Gather all your strength now,” she said softly.
    “I am dying,” Anne cried out. “Henry… Henry…” she called out.
    As Anne called King Henry, the other ladies shared worried, sorrowful glances.
    “Lady Anne, please don’t say that you will die,” Lady Eleanor said. She ran her right hand across Anne’s forehead, brushing back the wet curls of her dark hair from her face.
    Anne closed her eyes. She was tired. She could barely breathe. She was bathed in perspiration, and her skin was white, the white of death. “I can go no further,” she groaned.
    “You can and you will,” Lady Eleanor said firmly. “You must live.”
    “Why should I live? Soon he will have me executed anyway,” Anne whispered in a low voice, so that only Eleanor heard her.
    “My lady, you must cope. You are a strong woman.” Lady Eleanor forced herself to smile to mask her worried expression. “You must go on for your own sake and for the sake of your child.”
    “Lord, save my child,” Anne muttered under her breath. She gritted her teeth as the pain returned.
    Finally, everything finished well near midnight of November 21. The labor had taken around twenty-four hours in total. Anne heard the loud cry of her child and managed to smile with a vague, yet happy smile. Then she shut her eyes as she lost consciousness in exhaustion.
    Master Cromwell was standing near Anne’s chamber, waiting for the news about the labor of the former Queen of England. He spent half of the day at the Tower of London. Someone of Anne’s ladies periodically went out and notified him about the progress of the labor, which was rather slow. When Lady Anne Shelton and Lady Mary Kingston told him that the midwife was concerned with the survival of both Anne and the child, he hoped that Anne would probably die in childbirth. It would have helped the kingdom, the king, and Cromwell himself. As he heard the cry of the newborn baby, Cromwell silently cursed several times. He strained his ears and continued to listen.
    Anne regained consciousness in around half an hour. She looked down at herself and saw that she had already been dressed by her ladies in a clean, white cotton nightgown. She raised her head and looked around, her eyes fixing at the bundle in the midwife’s arms; her newborn child. Anne glared at the midwife. “What is it?” she asked. Her voice was barely a whisper.
    The midwife examined the child, searching for any possible deformations and abnormalities and estimating the health of the baby.
    The midwife turned to face Anne. “Lady Anne, it is a boy, healthy boy,” she replied.
    Anne smiled through her tears. Her cheeks were pale and tear-stained. Her round eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. “My boy,” she murmured. “Is he healthy?” She had to ask about the health of her child. She had to be sure that her son was fine and would survive after everything she and her baby had gone through.
    The midwife swaddled the child. “Yes, Lady Anne,” she replied. “I will give the child to you soon.”
    “Dear