“To Jesus Christ I comment my soul; Lord Jesus receive my soul.”
Dear God, what am I saying? Do I really believe that I am giving up myself to someone I’ve never seen? Never met? What am I doing here? Why am I saying these words? Do I really believe any of this?!
I was kneeling before the crowd. When I watched them earlier, I feared how rowdy they would be while I waited for the swordsman to finish his deed. But I was wrong. These people were watching me, some with pity, most with sadness in their eyes. They were all so silent. I looked through the crowd, trying to search for familiar faces.
Every other face, I saw his face. And I wanted to scream.
He put me here. He put me here to have my head sliced off. And I have done nothing. He threw me in jail for treason, witchcraft, and incest. And I…
I die as a woman. No longer a Queen.
Everything I have is gone.
“Memento Mori,” my father used to say. “And life will not be so harsh.”
That’s right.
Remember.
Remember, and life….