"Nancy Kress - And Wild for to Hold" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kress Nancy)

TIME RESCUE PROJECT
UNITED FEDERATION OF UPPER SLIB, EARTH
FOCUS: ANNE BOLEYN
HEVER CASTLE, KENT ENGLAND, EUROPE
1525: 645:89:3
CHURCH OF THE HOLY HOSTAGE TEMPORARY PERMIT #4592


In the time-jump square was framed a young girl, dark hair just visible
below her coif, her hand arrested at her long, slender neck in the act of
signing the cross.

Lambert said, as if to herself, "She considered herself a good Catholic."

Culhane stared at the image. His head had been freshly shaved, in
honor of his promotion to project head. He wore, Lambert thought, his
new importance as if it were a fragile implant, liable to be rejected. She
found that touching.

Lambert said, "The Rahvoli probability is .798. She's a definite key."

Culhane sucked in his cheeks. The dye on them had barely dried. He
said, "So is the other. I think we should talk to Brill."


The serving women had finally left. The priests had left, the doctors, the
courtiers, the nurses, taking with them the baby. Even Henry had left,
gone… where? To play cards with Harry Norris? To his latest mistress?
Never mind—they had all at last left her alone.
 A girl.

Anne rolled over in her bed and pounded her fists on the pillow. A girl.
Not a prince, not the son that England needed, that she needed… a girl.
And Henry growing colder every day, she could feel it, he no longer desired
her, no longer loved her. He would bed with her—oh, that, most certainly,
if it would get him his boy, but her power was going. Was gone. The power
she had hated, despised, but had used nonetheless because it was there
and Henry should feel it, as he had made her feel his power over and over
again… her power was going. She was queen of England, but her power
was slipping away like the Thames at ebb tide, and she just as helpless to
stop it as to stop the tide itself. The only thing that could have preserved
her power was a son. And she had borne a girl. Strong, lusty, with Henry's
own red, curling hair… but a girl.

Anne rolled over on her back, painfully. Elizabeth was already a month
old, but everything in Anne hurt. She had contracted white-leg, so much
less dreaded than childbed fever but still weakening, and for the whole
month had not left her bedchamber. Servants and ladies and musicians
came and went, while Anne lay feverish, trying to plan… Henry had as yet