The King's Commoner: The rise and fall of Cardinal Wolsey (The Tudor Saga Series Book 2)

by David Field

  ‘Keeper of the Royal Jewel House perhaps?’ Thomas joked.

  ‘A ready wit will be of much value to you in the coming days,’ Norfolk replied as all remaining pretence of cordiality disappeared from his face, ‘as will your skills as a lawyer in your misguided service to the butcher’s son. He is to be attainted for praemunire.’

  Thomas almost burst out laughing.

  ‘These days, thanks to those who mean him no good, his only negotiations are with his fishmonger when he seeks payment of his account. How can it be said that, in his former positions, he introduced a foreign authority into the nation other than on the King’s bidding?’

  ‘As a lawyer, you will appreciate that praemunire encompasses any foreign power? Including that of the Pope.’

  ‘Again, I am bound to point out that his Legatine duties were approved by His Majesty, and that it was with Henry’s consent that he sat in judgment at Blackfriars.’

  ‘That is not how His Majesty sees it,’ Norfolk replied with a smirk, ‘particularly since the outcome was not to his liking.’

  ‘Since you obviously do not require my lawyer’s counsel,’ Cromwell replied sarcastically, ‘why am I here?’

  ‘Firstly,’ Norfolk replied, ‘to advise you of the offer of a position at Court once you are no longer employed as a flea on the back of a traitorous dog. Secondly, in the certain belief that you will lose no time in riding to Esher with the tidings I have just shared with you, thereby ruining his supper. You may go.’

  Two hours later, Thomas Wolsey looked up joyfully from his sparsely loaded board, and his eyes widened in delight as he hurried across from the table to embrace Cromwell.

  ‘Well met, my dear Thomas. As you see, I make a scant early supper, but you are welcome to share it, if you enjoy fish. It is all that my rebellious stomach will accept these days, and then not always. But why are you here? Surely my letters are adequate, and I know that you wished not to revisit Putney.’

  ‘I came by way of Hampton,’ Cromwell told him, ‘where I was fortunate in that your bargeman still plies his trade privately. From thence across river, where I was able to hire a sorry nag that is currently enjoying the hospitality of your stables. But had I been required to ride right through the ghost of my father, I could not foreswear this visit.’

  ‘Be seated, Thomas, and partake of some wine, ere you tell me what is so urgent. Am I for the Tower?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Thomas assured him as he accepted the cup handed to him by a page, the state of whose livery suggested that the laundry facilities at Esher were non-existent, ‘but I come to warn you, in two ways. The first is that all our correspondence is almost certainly intercepted by those in Norfolk’s pay, so that we must be circumspect in what we write. The second is that you are down for attainder for praemunire.’

  Thomas’s eyebrows rose over his trencher, then he thought deeply.

  ‘It is indeed the case that I introduced many foreign powers into the country, but it was always at Henry’s bidding, or with his consent. If I am guilty of praemunire, then so is he, if it is possible for a monarch to be so indicted.’

  ‘Not in law,’ Cromwell replied. ‘But in equity?’

  Thomas nodded sagely. ‘You speak more wisely than you imagine. The common law cannot find me guilty, but of course praemunire is a Chancery matter, as I should know. I shall be hoist with my own petard, but what of Henry?’

  ‘Be damned to Henry!’ Cromwell yelled, before looking around him to see who might have overheard him. Thomas looked across at him apologetically.

  ‘Try not to choke on a fishbone, my dear Cromwell, but I shall confess my guilt without need of any trial.’

  ‘To save Henry the King?’ Cromwell asked in sheer disbelief. ‘It is he who placed you where you now are, surrounded by your enemies, and stripped of all office.’

  ‘Not all office, Thomas,’ Wolsey reminded him. ‘Certainly of those offices that I had at the King’s hand, but certain of my offices in the Church came from the hands of various Popes, and it is from these that, in the main, I still enjoy food and shelter. I have already lost York Place, of course, and were I to protest to his Holiness this would do Henry’s current matter no favours. So I am content to lose that, along with Hampton. But this house in Esher, plus various other establishments that belong to the Church, cannot be taken from me except with the consent of his Holiness. Certainly not by Norfolk, or even by Henry. And so I will bow my head to the praemunire.’

  ‘But you are innocent!’ Cromwell objected.

  ‘So is Henry, but my only defence would be through him. I cannot expose him to that.’

  ‘You would forfeit so much, simply to save His Majesty from embarrassment?’ Cromwell enquired incredulously.

  ‘And why not? I am simply rendering unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s. I may be adjudged guilty in the court of common prejudice, but I remain true to my own conscience. I will climb upon Henry’s cross in his stead, and on his behalf.’

  ‘I shall spare no effort in acquainting His Majesty of your nobility, humility and grace in this matter.’

  ‘It will avail nothing, Thomas, since others are intent on my total ruin. For all it is worth, you might as well so inform Norfolk.’

  ‘Why is he so against you, master?’

  Thomas smiled. ‘It was ever so, even when we were boys. I think he resents my learning. Had I managed to persuade his Holiness in favour of his niece, he might have looked more kindly upon me. But my failure in that regard merely re-sharpened his angry blade.’

  Cromwell was still indignant at the perceived injustice.

  ‘When your attainder is announced before the Parliament, I shall make it my business to ensure that all men know of your true allegiance to the King, and to the nation that you served so well for so many years.’

  ‘Have a care that you do not stir up Norfolk and his hounds against you, Thomas,’ Wolsey warned him.

  Cromwell smiled. ‘Rather will I play him at his own game. He wishes me to come further under his influence by virtue of accepting some office within his grant. So will I do, but only in order to be closer acquainted with his intentions towards you, of which I may warn you in advance. My father taught me one thing, apart from how to avoid kicks to the privy parts. He had a saying that “A dog that will fetch will carry.” By this means will I work for your interest.’

  ‘Dear, loyal Thomas. How goes your family in Cheapside?’

  ‘Middling well, thank you master, although there is much sweating sickness in the surrounding streets, and I fear daily that they will succumb. Remember them in your prayers, your Grace, and that shall be reward enough for me.’

  ‘Your other rewards will come in Heaven, Thomas, since what you are setting out to do must surely attract God’s blessing.’

  Four days later, Norfolk arrived, demanding Thomas’s presence in the Hall halfway through his second Mass. There was a malicious glint in his eye as he handed over a vellum.

  ‘By the King’s hand, before you try to be tricky again. You are to remove yourself from here and move to Richmond.’

  ‘I am restored to Court?’ Thomas asked breathlessly.

  ‘No,’ Norfolk replied with a cold grin. ‘Rather the gatehouse, which even then is too grand for someone of your breeding and current standing with the King. Have your entire household assembled out here without delay, that I may advise them also.’

  ‘May I not be permitted to do that myself, in kinder tones than you are likely to employ?’

  ‘They would not thank you for it, given that I intend to offer the best of them a more secure future than they may currently look forward to.’

  ‘But how can this be?’ Thomas enquired, genuinely mystified, ‘since this is the official residence of the Bishop of Winchester, which I still am, and which position was confirmed by the Pope himself?’

  ‘After it was granted by the King,’ Norfolk reminded him. ‘Everything that Henry granted is to be taken from you, after your very wise confession to p
raemunire. Had you sought to defend yourself, you would have been found guilty and executed.’

  ‘What of my see of York?’

  ‘My instructions from Henry extend only to this house, more’s the pity,’ Norfolk growled back. ‘Now, will you summon your household, or must I?’

  Once everyone was gathered fearfully in the Hall, Thomas explained to them, tearfully, that he could no longer retain any of them in his service other than George Cavendish, if he would consent to reduced wages, and a few kitchen staff who had nowhere to go, and would otherwise be rendered destitute. The tears eventually overcame him, and Norfolk took over, promising them that the King, in his generosity and mercy, had undertaken to find employment for them all, although this would take some time, and they were to travel with Wolsey to Richmond Lodge, and there await further instructions from the Palace further up the drive. And with that he departed, declining Thomas’s offer to take wine and drink to His Majesty’s continued health.

  Late that evening, George Cavendish found Thomas on his knees before the altar in his private bedchamber, praying for the strength to bear the disgrace and humiliation that was being heaped upon him. He refused all offer of food and drink, instructing George that what little was left in the larder was to be conserved for the retainers who still remained in his service. When Thomas had still not eaten for three days, a terrified George Cavendish penned a hasty note to Thomas Cromwell at Cheapside.

  It found Thomas knee deep in paperwork necessitated by the King’s confiscation of Thomas’s livings of Winchester and St Albans. Henry had ensured that Thomas retained a modest pension from the incomes, and had assigned the remainder of the revenues to various minor nobles. These nobles were now seeking confirmation from Thomas himself that the assignments were legitimate, and the clearest way of achieving that, in the common law trained mind of Cromwell, was to grant them deeds of assignation that were signed by Thomas, then countersigned by the royal hand. This gave Cromwell many excuses to be in the King’s company, where he could keep him advised of Thomas’s welfare. When Cromwell received George Cavendish’s urgent missive, he sought an immediate audience with Henry, who he found in company with the Lady Anne in his private rooms.

  Cromwell bowed, and wasted no time.

  ‘Sire, my master Thomas Wolsey is like to die within the week.’

  ‘Leaving us to clean up his mess,’ Anne observed coldly. Henry looked back at her pleadingly.

  ‘He is my friend, and once my closest confidante, my sweet. He has done much for England, and it is only meet that England should now do something for him. What is the nature of his malady, Master Cromwell? Is it the sweating sickness that has beset much of the city?’

  ‘No, Your Majesty. The sweating sickness has not yet reached Richmond, where, as you will be aware, my master is currently lodged. According to his gentleman usher, whose note I have here, he has taken to his bed and refuses to eat or drink.’

  ‘That will make a change,’ came Anne’s sarcastic aside from somewhere behind Henry, who ignored it.

  ‘Is his sickness one of the spirit, or is there some bodily cause?’ Henry asked, concern written across his face. Cromwell shook his head.

  ‘I know not, since I have not seen him for some time. The documents that he signs go to him by messenger, and then by return here to Westminster. I have not laid eyes on him since his translation to Richmond.’

  Henry thought for a moment, then looked back up.

  ‘Go you and seek out my physician Doctor Buttes, and tell him that it is my command that he accompany you to Richmond, there to examine the Cardinal. Take the royal barge, and go you by way of the Palace, where you may both lodge while the good doctor applies his skill. Make no delay, but leave before the sun begins to sink.’

  As Cromwell bowed his grateful thanks and departed from the chamber, Anne raised a weary head from her needlepoint.

  ‘It were best to let the old fool die.’

  ‘He was once my friend — and still is, my sweet. Would you that I desert my friends simply because they cannot give me what I most want? If so, how shall I best regard your long-withheld favours?’

  Anne decided that silence was a better option than the retort that formed itself in her head.

  Thomas barely raised his head from the bolster as the two men entered his bedchamber; then he recognised Cromwell and gave a weak smile.

  ‘Good day, Thomas. Did I not sign those latest papers? And who comes with you — Henry’s executioner?’

  ‘No, master, it’s Henry’s physician, Dr. Buttes. He’s been sent by Henry himself, such is his concern for your welfare. I’ll come back and see you when he’s finished.’

  ‘Tell him not to waste his leeches on a dead man,’ was the weak response as Cromwell descended the stairs and went in search of George Cavendish and a cup of wine.

  ‘How goes he?’ Cromwell enquired nervously as he sat by the fire across from George, who shook his head resignedly.

  ‘It’s as if he wants to die, Thomas. He won’t eat or drink, he keeps getting out of his warm bed in order to kneel before his altar, and all he will talk about is how he’s failed Henry and betrayed God.’

  ‘Will nothing raise his spirits, say you?’

  ‘Only perhaps a visit from Henry himself, and a restoration to his former glory. I think he misses all the adoration and pomp. He’s a very proud man, as you probably know for yourself.’

  ‘Indeed, and it must be like a dagger to the heart to be laid this low,’ Cromwell replied as he rose to kick a fallen log back into the fire.

  After an hour or so, Dr. Buttes descended the stairs with a puzzled look. George and Thomas rose in expectation, but he shook his head in a sign of bewilderment.

  ‘He undoubtedly has a malady of the stomach, and to judge by his protests when I prodded certain portions it may well be a canker, in which case he will be dead ere the year’s end. But there is also a sickness of the mind that prevents any chance of even a brief recovery. Could his mind be eased in some way, then he might last a little longer, but as I say, in the longer term he is down for death anyway. And in my experience there will be much pain.’

  ‘Is there nothing you can do?’ Cromwell pleaded. The doctor nodded sagely.

  ‘As for the bodily ailment, he should be given a simple of henbane mixed with hemlock and mandrake. It will ease the pain, and may be obtained from any apothecary. It should be taken thrice daily with a little wine. But as for the sickness of the mind, this is not my speciality, and I must leave it with you. Find what eats away at his soul, and you will cure that which is blocking the physical recovery. And I may say privily that should the pain become unbearable, then you should increase the mandrake, although you should require a servant to give it to him, that you may not be blamed for the death that will almost certainly follow. And now I take my leave.’

  George was sobbing silently as he took it all in, but Cromwell was angry.

  ‘This is all the making of the Boleyn witch! She has poisoned Henry’s mind against the master, and so far bewitched his senses that he has sent a Cardinal to his deathbed. I vow that the day shall come when I will avenge myself of that devil with her child duckies! As for the present, do you know where an apothecary may be found, George?’

  ‘Not at present, but I shall make it my first task to find one.’

  ‘Good. In the meantime I will speak with the master, and see if there is not some way to lift his spirits.’

  He tiptoed up the staircase, and was sitting by the bed when Wolsey opened his eyes.

  ‘Still here, Thomas? Did not the physician tell you that my days are now numbered? There is nothing you can do except sit with me and watch the sands of my life wash away.’

  ‘If you were not to die,’ Cromwell asked quietly, ‘if there was one place on this earth that you would wish to visit ere you make your final journey to meet God, where would it be?’

  ‘York,’ came the hoarse reply without hesitation. ‘In all these years I have never
set eyes on my own minster, did you know that?’

  ‘You may leave that small matter with me,’ Cromwell assured him.

  A brief further conversation with George confirmed that the household was almost entirely bereft of funds, and Cromwell hurried back to Westminster, where he advised Henry privily that his former Lord Chancellor was close to death, and that his last wish was to set eyes on his cathedral of York, and perform one final Mass before God took him, but that there was no money left. Henry wiped a tear from his eye, and asked

  ‘How much does he need, say you?’

  Cromwell took a deep breath.

  ‘Perhaps a thousand marks?’

  Henry nodded.

  ‘It will require the consent of the Council, for such a sum to be voted out of Exchequer.’

  ‘Can you not raise it within the Household accounts?’ Cromwell asked, confused. Henry shook his head.

  ‘I cannot be seen to expend such a sum on one who has been attainted for praemunire, as you yourself can appreciate, Thomas. To do so would be condoning the offence. And, I may tell you privily, the Household would be sorely pressed to find such a sum at this time.’

  ‘By the same token, would not your Council baulk at such a step, given that my master is not well loved?’

  Henry nodded sadly.

  ‘To you, Thomas, falls the task of persuading Norfolk to the matter, since his is likely to be the loudest voice. It is time to discover whether or not your master bequeathed you his filed tongue.’

  Cromwell sought audience with Norfolk without delay. He found him in conference with Thomas Boleyn, and seated in the shadows was the Lady Anne, seemingly reading a book, but Cromwell had no illusions that she would not be listening intently to their conversation.

  ‘Have you reconsidered my recent offer, Thomas?’ Norfolk enquired down his nose, ‘since it would seem that your former employer is without a groat to his name — not that it is much of a name these days.’

  Thomas swallowed his anger and forced a smile to his lips. ‘I have indeed, but it comes with one condition.’