Jane used rope to tie Bash and Dudley to the iron lattice of the portcullis (she had, after all, once read a book on the proper securing of captives), and once the prisoners were bound, the three of them made their way into the White Tower. To the throne room.
(You’re probably thinking the same thing we were: where did Jane get the rope to tie the prisoners? We researched this very conundrum thoroughly, and after two weeks we can say, without a doubt: nobody knows. It’s a question that has baffled historians and archaeologists alike. Professor Herbert Halprin explains: “Ropes have been a mystery to scholars throughout the ages. The first ropes were thought to appear as far back as 17,000 BC and made of vines. Unfortunately, being made of vines, none of those early examples survived. Later, da Vinci drew sketches for a rope-making machine, but it was never built. In medieval times, there were secret societies, called Rope Guilds, whose rope-twisting practices were protected via a complicated series of handshakes and passwords—” Okay. Your narrators are interrupting the dear professor, for reasons of boredom. Plus, his English accent sounded sketchy and forced. We asked him where Jane could’ve gotten the rope, but maybe he thought we asked him where anyone could’ve gotten any rope at any given point in history. Trust us, we are as frustrated as you must be about the lack of a definitive answer.)
Anyway. It was time for our heroes to do what they’d come to do. It was time to face Mary. Finally.
“We should make this quick, like in and out,” said G as they approached the throne room. He nodded his head toward the windows, where the shades of approaching dawn filtered through. A few more minutes and he’d be a horse again, stuck in the White Tower. And he’d been there and done that already.
But as they reached the door to the throne room, Edward paused.
“You really think this will work?” he asked suddenly. “Because there are probably loads of people on the other side of this door.” He glanced down at his ill-fitting uniform. “Maybe they won’t recognize me.”
“They’ll recognize you,” assured Jane. “This will work.”
“Either that or we’re all about to die,” G added. “But it’s for a good cause.”
Edward nodded and put his hand on the door.
“Wait!” G stopped him. He turned to Jane. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
“Now?”
“I don’t know if I’ll get another chance.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve been weak. I’ve been a horse, when I should have stayed a man. But I can’t go in there and face whatever we’re about to face without you knowing that I am yours. Flesh, man, fur, horse . . . I am yours, Jane.”
He glanced again at the window. The sun was almost up. “At least for a few more seconds.”
Jane stood on tiptoe so she could look into his eyes. “Stay with me, G.”
He sighed. “I have never wanted so much in my life to stay human.”
“But you didn’t even try before. Why wouldn’t you try?”
G shook his head, ashamed. “For most of my life, it’s been easier to run. What if my heart’s true desire is to keep running? What if I can’t get my house in order, and be the man you want? But Jane.” He took her hand and kissed it. “Dear Jane. You are my house. My home. I may have only half a life, but what I have, I pledge to you. I . . . I love you.”
“You love me?” she whispered.
“The very instant I saw you, my heart flew to your service,” he said.
“Really?”
“No,” he admitted. “Not exactly. But it’s a good line, am I right?”
“G.” She sighed. “Talk sense, please.”
“When I first saw you, I thought you were so beautiful that you couldn’t possibly love me. I never saw true beauty until that night.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “But I didn’t know you then. I didn’t know how clever you were, how courageous, how kindhearted, how true to yourself you always are. My lady. Jane. I would not wish any companion in the world but you.”
Her eyes were shining. “I love you, too.”
“You do?”
She smiled. “I do. But I have one question.”
“What is it, my lady?”
“Do you see the light through yonder window?”
G blinked, confused. “What?”
Jane took his face in her hands. “The sun is up,” she whispered. “See?”
“It can’t be the sun. I am still a man,” G said.
“The sun is up, and you are still a man,” Jane confirmed.
G closed his eyes, and for the first time in six years, eight months, and twenty-two days, he felt the sunlight on his skin. He breathed in its rays and absorbed its glow, and there rose a peace in his heart, the kind of calm that comes from the feeling of arriving home after a long journey. His curse was broken.
The two lovers embraced, while Edward and your narrators turned their heads to give the lovebirds their moment of blessed union.
“Ahem. Are you quite done?” Edward asked, when lips finally parted long enough for them to take a breath.
“Not quite.” G pressed one last soft kiss to Jane’s poetry-inspiring mouth. “Now we’re ready.”
“Good,” said Edward. “Because there’s still something I have to do.”
TWENTY-EIGHT