by David Field
Thomas smiled unctuously. ‘Forgive me, Hal. It is simply that you grow into kingship with such alacrity that your very bearing and demeanour demand regal respect. It would not be fitting for me to call you “Hal” in the presence of those who must needs call you “Your Majesty”, and I would not wish it spoken abroad that I demean your royal dignity by being so forward in my address.’
‘We shall compromise, Thomas. You may call me “Hal” when we are alone, but “Your Majesty” whenever you deem it appropriate due to the company we keep. Would that suit?’
‘Admirably, Hal, and thank you once again for an excellent supper and such engaging company withal. I shall return at ten in the forenoon.’
In the days and weeks that followed, there were only two topics that engaged the King and his newly-appointed Almoner. The first was the completion of Henry’s education in those areas of the Classics, the English language, Divinity and Science that were deemed — by Thomas — to be necessary. If Henry had been an indifferent pupil in the past, he now made up for it in his enthusiasm to grow rapidly into the role that heredity had destined him for, and Thomas noted that underneath the the bravado was a perceptive mind eager for new knowledge, a fact that he tucked away for future exploitation.
The second topic to dominate their daily meetings was the preparation for the wedding and the coronation. By consent, the wedding was to be conducted almost in secret, and Thomas had no difficulty in persuading the Abbot of the Franciscan Priory at Greenwich to conduct the low-key ceremony, attended only by close members of the family and a few selected nobles of the realm. The priory had been the object of royal patronage since its foundation in the years immediately before the fall of Richard of Gloucester, and Henry VII had proved particularly generous.
A radiant, glowing and somewhat surprised Lady Katherine had been ‘humbly’ advised by Thomas that it was the young King’s wish to honour his marriage pledge. Thomas subtly suggested that the marriage had come about through his diplomatic intervention with Henry, thereby ensuring that he was highly regarded by both King and Queen.
King Henry also had a surprise awaiting him. The ‘Spanish Pudding’, as he had dubbed her, proved to be an eager and energetic bed partner, and had exchanged the aroma of olive oil for that of rosewater by the time that they celebrated their nuptials. She fell pregnant almost instantly, and was already carrying the royal seed in her womb when the happy couple alighted, on Midsummer’s Day 1509, at Westminster Abbey on the occasion of their joint coronation.
As the royal feet progressed sedately down the carpet, it was, in accordance with established tradition, torn up behind them and cut up into lengths by an ecstatic crowd for both souvenir and sale. Archbishop William Warham anointed and crowned each of them in turn, in the presence of every prelate within the realm who was in sufficiently good health to attend, and as Thomas beamed and nodded from the front row of the nave, he was mentally accounting for those who were missing, and whose dioceses he might therefore anticipate inheriting upon their deaths.
VI
For some time now, Thomas had been tutoring Queen Katherine in English. She had proved to be an eager student, and King Henry was delighted with her progress. Despite the misgivings of his early youth, Henry had rapidly warmed towards the marriage born out of diplomacy, and there was a deepening affection between the royal couple that Thomas chose to exploit to the full. By tutoring the Queen in the language of her adopted country, he ingratiated himself with her while earning the ongoing gratitude of the King, and the bonus was his constant attendance at Richmond and Westminster, or wherever else the Court might be.
‘Tell me, Tomas,’ Katherine began by way of a conversation opener for their English language lesson, ‘how is your new house?’
‘Very comfortable, madam. As usual, your husband the King has been most generous, and since he allowed me not only the house but also its furnishings, it was simply a matter of transferring my servants from Putney to Bridewell.’
Thomas had moved into the house across The Fleet, and just outside the city walls, several weeks previously, and it certainly had advantages in keeping close to the royal couple, either by means of a short wherry trip upriver to Westminster, or one further upstream to Richmond.
‘I have never understood,’ Katherine said with a furrowed brow, ‘how you men of God remain so wealthy, when you have all taken vows of poverty.’
‘That is for monks, madam,’ Thomas replied a little frostily. ‘Those of us in the mainstream Church must ensure that the glory of God is ever on show for the inspiration of those who worship in our churches and cathedrals. And it would only demean the image of God in this world were His servants to go around resembling stable hands or kitchen scullions.’
‘But from where comes this wealth of the Church?’ Katherine persisted. ‘Everywhere I go, the bishops and archbishops, not to mention lowly priests, seem always to be well fed and dressed in rich clothing, like high nobles. Comes it all from pious donations?’
‘Not all of it, madam,’ Thomas explained. ‘In the same way that the nobles of the land enjoy their wealth from the rents and other dues paid to them by those who occupy land on their estates, so the Church, too, owns much land, which tenants pay for their right to occupy. It is by these means that the glory of God is displayed in the arches, high ceilings and rich hangings of our greatest cathedrals.’
‘And on the backs of God’s servants,’ Katherine observed slyly, glancing at Thomas’s soutane.
There was a rush of action in the chamber doorway, and King Henry blustered in before the usher could even announce his arrival. He strode swiftly across the rich carpet, kissed Katherine full on the lips, playfully rubbed her protruding stomach, and called for more wine and an extra goblet. Then he spotted Thomas, who had slid from his chair to his knees, and had his head down in supplication.
‘Off your knees, Thomas,’ he ordered. ‘I have need of your counsel — and that of the beautiful Spanish Ambassador here.’
Katherine preened herself proudly, and looked adoringly into Henry’s eyes while Thomas regathered his dignity. The wine was served, and the King drank deeply before belching discreetly and looking up at Thomas.
‘Today I require both your counsels on the latest request from my esteemed father-in-law, King Ferdinand.’
‘Majesty?’ Thomas enquired.
‘There is to be a new alliance between the most powerful nations in Europe against Louis of France,’ Henry explained. ‘It is to be led by the Pope himself, and will therefore be called ‘The Holy League’. Pope Julius has succeeded in persuading the Emperor Maximilian to commit his troops, and he in turn, being related by marriage to King Ferdinand, has caused him to bring Spanish soldiers to his banner. Ferdinand wishes me to add to the mighty force that can thereby be sent to silence Louis, and end his ambitions in Italy. What say you, Thomas? Should we commit?’
Thomas was well aware that Henry’s greatest dream was to conquer France, not only proving himself to be the great warrior that he believed himself to be, but also to retrieve those lands won by his hero, and distant Lancaster ancestor, Henry V. On the other hand, the English tradition established by Henry VII had been one of negotiation and treaty. Not only did this preserve English lives, but it cost less money, and there was always the risk of armed uprising at home if the nobles and leading merchants felt themselves over-taxed to support wars that were none of their making. This policy of conducting foreign affairs by treaty had been developed by Richard Foxe, and was now being enthusiastically supported by the current Archbishop of Canterbury, William Warham.
Thomas was deep in thought when Henry, as usual, cut in to place his wishes beyond misunderstanding. ‘I would that we proceed, Thomas, and I wish you to make that happen. To that end, I wish you to take up your seat at the Council table in your capacity as my Almoner. With yourself and Surrey on my side, we shall restore England to its former glory, and I shall lead our victorious knights through the streets of Paris with Louis o
n a halter.’
‘That would gladden my father’s heart,’ Katherine chimed in. ‘He has long suffered the threat of the arrogant House of Valois against his kingdom. Would it not also place my dear husband among the leading, and most devout, princes of Europe, to fight under a banner blessed by the Pope himself?’
The reference to the Pope reminded Thomas that there were others apart from Henry from whom he sought preferment. To please Pope Julius II would perhaps be a step towards the scarlet robe of a Cardinal of the Church of Rome that he most craved. All the favourable indicators were towards a war with France in the name of St Peter, and who was Thomas to ignore the omens?
‘It shall be as you wish, Hal,’ Thomas agreed.
Henry clapped his hands in delight. ‘Most excellent! The Council meets tomorrow, at ten of the forenoon, in the Star Chamber. I shall require you to lend the weight of God to my argument. Be prepared to take on the head of your Church should it threaten to become a battle of the scriptures. And now you may leave us — I am sure that my dear wife has suffered enough tutoring for one day.’
Thomas bowed from the presence and made his way to his new house in Bridewell. Seated nervously at a trestle table was his returned chaplain, Thomas Larke, and beside him sat a comely young woman. She was sturdily built, with a more than ample bosom and long light auburn hair that flowed down to her shoulders. She gave Thomas an open smile as Thomas Larke rose swiftly to his feet and welcomed his master home.
‘We are but lately returned from the old house at Putney,’ Larke told him. ‘I must apologise for having tarried so long in the resolution of my father’s affairs.’
‘I have few sins to confess during your absence, Thomas, so fear not on that score. But unless I misjudge the situation, you may have a sin of your own to confess to me — is she your wife?’
Thomas laughed. ‘In truth, master, she is my sister Joan. My father’s death has placed her in an awkward situation. The inn which my late father owned has been sold, and will henceforth be managed and staffed by the family of the new owner. This leaves Joan with no position, a maid of but twenty-two years of age with no protector, no employment and no roof over her head. If she is not to fall prey to evil or malignancy, she must perforce be offered some new station, and I was hoping that one might be found for her here, under my protection. She has considerable experience in the service of wine, since she worked for my father, and she is also a most admirable cook, besides being a skilled seamstress. Perhaps you might...’
Thomas stemmed the flow of words with a hand gesture, as he looked back at the eager face of Joan Larke. ‘No more, Thomas. It shall be as you wish. We do now have need of more servants. Present your sister to the Steward, in order that he may best employ her.’
The next morning, with some trepidation, Thomas made the wherry trip to Westminster, where he was admitted to the Star Chamber to find that while he was early, he was not the first. The Earl of Surrey was staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. Thomas bowed slightly and took a seat across the table from him.
Surrey considered Thomas’s glowing, scrubbed countenance for a moment, before breaking the silence. ‘My son, Thomas, wishes his best regards passed on to you.’
Thomas nodded his acknowledgement, then raised an eyebrow. ‘How did he know I would be here?’
‘His Majesty advised me late yesterday. He also advised me that we can rely upon you to talk some sense into Foxe and Warham.’
‘Will His Majesty be here to argue his cause?’
Surrey smiled. ‘That will depend upon whether or not there is a hunt somewhere within a day’s ride of London. But did it not occur to you that you are expected to sway the others?’
‘His Majesty certainly indicated how he would wish to decision to go, but even so...’
Surrey leaned across the table and lowered his voice. ‘Be in no doubt, Thomas, that the King wishes war on France, and has done these many months. The Holy League is his best opportunity, and we will not long remain in favour if we cannot sway the Council to his will.’
As he spoke, the chamber door opened and Foxe entered, deep in conversation with Archbishop Warham. Thomas rose from his seat and approached the Archbishop, then bowed in order to kiss the ring of office on the outstretched hand. Warham looked down his nose slightly at Thomas, then took his place next to Foxe, who raised a quizzical eyebrow in Thomas’s direction, but remained silent.
A few moments later, the King bustled in, dressed for the hunt, and the expression on his face left no-one in any doubt that he did not intend to remain for long. He opened the proceedings by expressing his desire to deal first with the request from Ferdinand of Spain that England commit an army to the Holy League against Louis of France, and asked for the initial views of those around the table. There was an ominous silence, broken by Foxe.
‘Since everyone else in Europe seems committed to keeping Louis out of Italy, why should we join in?’
‘Because,’ Henry enthused, ‘France has ever been our enemy, and we have this God-given opportunity to further secure not only our possessions in Calais, but also our other Channel ports.’
Warham added his dour opinion. ‘A Pope-given opportunity, certainly, but I feel sure that Your Majesty’s Almoner, in his capacity as Dean of Lincoln, would agree with me that this is no automatic guarantee that God has placed His seal on the proposal. It is, if anything, a Pope-given opportunity to tax the people in order to raise an army.’
‘We cannot, at this difficult time, tax the people further,’ Foxe agreed. ‘My memory goes back to the days in which the merchants of London were driven to the point of rebellion by being over-taxed.’
‘Over-taxed by Dudley and Empson, to line their own pockets,’ Thomas observed as his first contribution around the Council table. ‘This would be a tax to preserve our nation against any threat from France for all time coming, which in turn would discourage the Scots, who I am advised are currently sharpening their axes in anticipation of foraging south of the Tweed.’
‘His Majesty’s Almoner has obviously forgotten that we are at perpetual peace with the Scots,’ Foxe replied, ‘which is all the remarkable for the fact that it was Wolsey himself who negotiated that treaty, at my request. Were his efforts so feeble that even the fact that the King’s sister is married to the King of Scotland cannot prevent them from harassing our northern borders?’
‘If we ally with Spain and the Empire, could we not then call upon their assistance, should we be attacked ourselves?’ Thomas countered. ‘As for the cost of fielding an army, in my role as Almoner I can confirm that there is sufficient in the royal Treasury to finance such a venture, without need to seek further tax revenue through Parliament.’
‘Ferdinand of Spain is most desirous that we join with him,’ Henry added, ‘and this would not be a good time to lose favour with such a powerful ruler.’
‘He will surely look favourably upon the birth of yet another grandchild,’ Warham added, earning himself a foul look from Henry that caused him to drop his gaze to the table. He was playing with fire, since Queen Katherine had lost their first child when it was born prematurely, and spent half her waking life on her knees praying for the safe delivery of the latest in her womb.
Thomas saw his chance to attack the Archbishop. ‘I am somewhat nonplussed that the Archbishop is not more enthusiastic to do the bidding of the Pope,’ he announced unctuously. ‘After all, victory must be ours, if the expedition has the blessing of Rome.’
‘Tell that to those who died in the many attempts to reconquer Jerusalem under the banners of several ignominiously defeated Crusades,’ Warham snarled back. He looked up suddenly and pierced Thomas with a stare that was intended to be intimidating. ‘And I would remind the Dean of Lincoln that it is his place to respect the view of the leader of his Church.’
Thomas was prepared for this. ‘The Archbishop is certainly primus inter pares — first among equals — in the summoning of convocations of the English branch of the Church of R
ome. But the direct authority governing those who are not under holy orders in Canterbury itself comes from the Pope himself, through — in my case — the Bishop of Lincoln. While I have not had the opportunity to enquire of my lord of Lincoln, I must bow my head to the will of the Holy Father himself — whatever Canterbury may say.’
Warham shot Thomas a look that would have been fatal if accompanied by a real dagger.
Foxe leaned back in his chair and looked sideways at Surrey. ‘My lord of Surrey, you have not favoured us yet with your opinion. As a military man, would you deem it wise to stick our nose into the honey pot while the bees are still buzzing in residence around it?’
Surrey smiled condescendingly. ‘There is such a thing as safety in numbers,’ he advised the remaining members of the Council. ‘This would be the best opportunity since the glorious days of the fifth King Henry to gain back territories in France that have lawfully belonged to England since the age of the first Plantagenet. With the might of the Holy Roman Empire engaged in the fighting in Italy, while Ferdinand of Spain marches eastwards from his strongholds, we may march south from Calais and be at the walls of Paris within three days’ march. Once Paris falls, France is ours.’
‘And the cost in human lives?’ Warham muttered.
‘There would be less loss under this arrangement than were we to attack France on our own,’ Surrey assured him.
‘How many men would you require?’ Foxe enquired doubtfully, as he saw the debate swinging in Henry’s desires direction.
‘Ten thousand at most, should we be joined with Spain, with the Imperial forces to our south,’ Surrey replied. ‘Wolsey can no doubt advise how much this would cost in financial terms.’
‘We can afford it,’ Thomas insisted, his fingers crossed under the table.
‘Shall we put this to the vote?’ Henry suggested, eager to be away before the full heat of the day.
As predicted, it was three votes to two, the King having only an equal vote with the remainder of his Council, but with Surrey and Wolsey in his camp.