Cardinal Wolsey was a tall man, taller than Cardinal Campeggio and seemed much younger, although that could have only been the lack of beard. Moreover, he had a big belly and fat neck, which was decorated with a magnificent golden cross. He was dressed in the red garments of a cardinal.
‘Tiring I must say, ‘Tis a long way from Rome, Thomas,’ Campeggio said looking relieved that he could at last rest his aching body onto a chair standing on firm ground.
Wolsey smiled politely. ‘But where’re my manners?’ Wolsey said. ‘I shall immediately call for refreshments. Boy, fetch some wine, would you?’ he yelled, and then, at last, he noticed me. ‘What’re you still doing here? And who are you? Is this one of your escorts, Lorenzo?’
I coughed awkwardly.
‘Not quite, Thomas,’ Campeggio said and nodded to me to approach. ‘This is my son, Eduardo Campeggio.’
Wolsey looked suspiciously from Campeggio to me and then back to the cardinal. ‘I thought your son’s name was Alessandro,’ he said in a more formal tone, his eyes narrowing.
Campeggio was stuck. Apparently, his old mind did not operate as fast as it used to do in his youth and so nervous as I was, I took it upon me to defend my cover. ‘Alessandro is my older brother, Your Eminence. I am Lorenzo’s second-born son. ‘Tis a pleasure to meet you!’ I said rather convincingly and approached to kiss his hand as the convention dictated.
‘Oh, I see! I guess it would have been a lonely journey without a faithful companion by your side,’ Wolsey concluded. ‘Very well then, I assume you can be trusted as the cardinal’s own son. You may stay, Eduardo.’
‘I thank you, Your Eminence!’ I said humbly and took a seat next to Cardinal Campeggio.
‘Incidentally, your English is exceptional,’ Wolsey added.
‘I was educated in England as a young lad, You Eminence,’ I replied straight away, ready as I was for this particular question.
‘I shall want to hear of all your excursions to England over a cup of wine sometime,’ he said looking interested. ‘Back to business, now,’ Wolsey said as red wine was poured into three magnificent silver goblets, that vividly reminded me of the ones my family used to own. ‘To your good health!’ Wolsey raised his goblet, and we mimicked him. I took a cautious sip of the contents of mine, but it tasted magnificently sweet. I drained it before long, and the servant hasted to refill it.
‘Yes, Thomas. Pray, tell me. What is the state of affairs here in England?’ Campeggio asked after he had barely wetted his lips with the wine.
Wolsey lowered his goblet and placed the tips of his fingers together. ‘There is only one matter concerning the English Court, nowadays, Lorenzo, and that is, of course, the King’s Great Matter. He has put all his energy and will in the pursuit of the annulment of his marriage to Queen Catherine.’ He paused for a moment waiting for Campeggio to say something, but when he did not, he continued, ‘We must proceed with haste and deliver a final verdict. As His Holiness’ own legates, you and I have now the power and authority to do so.’
‘Yes, I agree with you, Thomas. This situation should be resolved sooner rather than later, for the greater good,’ Campeggio said seriously. ‘However, it is my belief that we ought not to be hasty if we wish to judge the matter in God’s own perspective.’
‘Which is?’ Wolsey asked, apparently having not interpreted the hidden meaning behind Campeggio’s careful wording.
‘Fairness, Thomas. That is God’s perspective, he is fair to us all and delivers his judgement accordingly. We, being his servants, must follow on His good example,’ Campeggio explained whilst shifting on his chair nervously.
Wolsey looked unsettled. ‘I’m going to be straight with you, Lorenzo. The king wishes a quick verdict and God help us if it is not a favourable one for His Majesty’s case.’
‘We must be honest and fair,’ Campeggio repeated stubbornly.
Wolsey stood up so abruptly that the whole desk shook momentarily. He must have sensed that Cardinal Campeggio was not going to be as helpful as he had initially anticipated.
‘You should be careful, Your Eminence. We did not bring you here all the way from Rome to make this even more difficult for us. You shall vouch for the king’s case. Otherwise, I will make you!’ His eyes were sparking threateningly.
All this time I had been sitting in quiet, sipping my wine and listening to every word. Cardinal Wolsey had not so much honoured me with a glare after the official introductions. However, I had been gazing upon his person tirelessly, trying to understand his motives and his attitude towards this so-called Great Matter. And what could one tell of another person’s behaviour in the space of a few minutes? For me, the first impressions were always the most important ones, and Cardinal Wolsey had just given the worst one to me. I deduced that the only person he cared about was himself, and he would do anything to preserve his position of power. Hence, the consequences of him failing to give the king what he desired, would be catastrophic.
‘Your Eminence has our assurances that we shall do everything in our power to help His Majesty with his Great Matter,’ I said to him calmly.
Wolsey considered me for a few moments and then grinned satisfied. ‘You see, Lorenzo? Your son, with his young and unmolested mind, is able to comprehend the seriousness of this matter better than both of us,’ he said plainly content by my response and looked embarrassed with himself that he had lost control.
Campeggio did not respond. Instead, he lowered his head and made the sign of the cross, murmuring something incomprehensible.
‘The king is troubled by his conscience, Lorenzo,’ said Wolsey sitting down again. ‘He has wronged God by taking his deceased brother’s wife, and for that, God has punished him by not granting him male children.’
‘If it is only his conscience that is troubling His Majesty,’ Campeggio started enigmatically, ‘then we shall put it at ease, Thomas. I promise you that. And then he will be content again,’ he finished his sentence.
Wolsey smiled awkwardly. ‘Of course, it is!’ For a moment, the two men looked at each other’s eyes, great tension forming between them as if they were both throwing invisible daggers at each other. Oftentimes, one could understand more by one’s silence than by their spoken words.
‘Well, now,’ Wolsey said eventually. ‘I shall have you escorted to your chambers, which I trust you would find most accommodating. You need to rest, and then we will talk again over supper tonight.’
I stood up and helped Cardinal Campeggio to his feet. We both bowed our heads to Cardinal Wolsey and then exited his office.
‘You should not give him such assurances,’ said Campeggio once we were out of hearing range from Wolsey’s office.
‘I shall do whatever is needed to keep ourselves in good grace with Wolsey. ‘We should be smart, Your Eminence. And yes, he was right, we need to be careful too.’
‘You cannot speak on my behalf, Edward. Remember your place,’ he countered.
I turned and faced him, towering over him. ‘Cardinal Campeggio, with all due respect, but my place is to defend our case, and that is to prevent the king from getting his annulment. If we are to succeed by lying to this corrupted piece of shit named Wolsey, then so be it. If you are not willing to do it yourself, I am’ I said in a hushed voice. ‘Bear in mind that we are in this together and if you attempt to intimidate me again as you did on the ship earlier today, I promise to God’s Holy Bones, you shall regret it.’
*
That very evening we met again over supper in the most magnificent dining chamber I had ever seen, where a long table with golden goblets and knives had been prepared for us. The room was lit by a long chandelier hanging from the ceiling, whilst tall candelabras stood in each corner, illuminating the surroundings and casting great shadows on the walls, which were covered in huge tapestries depicting different scenes of unknown to me battles of the past. A blazing fire was also lit in a massive fireplace which was decorated with the coat of arms of King Henry.
I had nev
er seen the king’s arms from that close before, and I was surprised at how very elaborate it was. On the left, the tremendous golden Lion of England, the royal crown upon its head; on the right side of the emblem lied the Red Dragon of Wales. Both beasts were proudly standing on their two paws and embracing the royal shield, which was divided into four quarters. The upper right and lower left emblazing three golden lions on a field of red, whilst the upper left and lower right quarters fashioned three golden fleurs-de-lis on a field of blue, claiming the Kingship of France. On the top of the shield was a golden helmet with white and golden feathers with a crown on its tip and a miniature golden, crowned lion sat on the top. Finally, on the base of the emblem were the words Dieu et mon Droit, meaning God and my Right, the motto of the English Monarchy.
It was there I met him for the first time, the King of England himself, Henry; the eighth under that name and my half-brother. We were to dine with him privately, along with Cardinal Wolsey and the Duke of Suffolk, Charles Brandon, who was also a personal friend and adviser to the king.
The king’s magnificence was beyond any doubt. He was tall, muscular and with a pointy nose that looked exactly like mine. One could see the shadow of our father in his appearance. His eyes, were deep blue and his chin somewhat square, comparing to mine which was pointy. Moreover, he kept his hair very short and had a well-kept dark-brown beard, with a few grey touches here and there.
We all bowed when he entered the room murmuring in unison: ‘Your Majesty!’
The king smiled at us, his teeth were unnaturally straight and white. ‘Welcome to England, Your Eminence,’ he said with a deep booming voice. He wore a beautiful purple garment with numerous rings on his fingers and a golden chain around his neck.
‘Thank you, Your Majesty,’ Campeggio said, may I introduce you to my son, Eduardo Campeggio.’
I bowed obediently. That evening I had put on a formal attire that I had never worn before. These clothes had been gifted to me in Rome by Philibert himself.
‘A personal gift. You want to be presentable for the king, Edward. You cannot go there dressed as a soldier, mon cher,’ he had said.
The outfit consisted of black leggings with matching pointy shoes and a white linen shirt with an expensive looking blue doublet on the top. I had also decorated my right forefinger with a golden ring, which had a small black stone on it, another gift from Philibert. As for my hair, I had washed, brushed and tied them in a small ponytail on the base of my neck. Finally, I had decided to shave off my beard, as I deemed it more appropriate for a meeting with the king, although as I realised now, the king and the Duke of Suffolk were both bearded.
‘Eduardo?’ King Henry said. ‘Edward in English, is it not?’ he enquired.
‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ I answered whilst standing now on my full height, which was exactly the same as the king’s. Unconsciously, my right hand traced itself down on my waist, where my sword should have been in its scabbard, but it was not there. I felt weird and vulnerable without it.
‘Well, we shall call you Edward, then,’ the king concluded. ‘Some of the greatest kings of England had that name. You should be proud!’ I bowed my head again in acceptance. ‘Come now, let us sit and eat and drink and be merry!’ he said laughing out loud.
We all took our places on the table. The king at the head of it with Cardinal Wolsey sitting on his right and finally, the duke on his left but leaving a vacant seat in-between. Cardinal Campeggio sat next to Wolsey and me.
‘This is the Duke of Suffolk, Charles Brandon, my lords. He’s one of my most trusted advisers,’ the king said, and we nodded politely.
‘But to whom does this vacant seat belong, Your Majesty?’ Campeggio asked the very same question I had in my mind. ‘Are we expecting someone else?’
‘We do, indeed!’ said the king. ‘Not just yet, though,’ he answered with a grin, whilst wine was poured into our goblets. I looked at mine thirstily, and after we toasted to the king’s good health, we sipped. The wine was even better than Wolsey’s, and I tried to contain myself not to drink it all at once. I had never tasted such sweetness. I was afraid I would be drunk every day in this kingdom if I were not careful.
‘First, I want you to tell me of the incidents in Rome, Your Eminence,’ King Henry said. ‘It must have been horrific to be in a city that was being invaded.’ Before Cardinal Campeggio had time to answer, though, he spoke again. ‘You must pass to His Holiness Pope Clement my deepest sympathies, and you also need to reassure him that I do my utmost in order to put Emperor Charles in his proper place, and that is in a dark-stinking-cell,’ he uttered the last three words emphatically. ‘For only a monster would attack the Holy City of Rome and inflict such unspeakable damage to the Church and its people. The Holy Roman Empire and its subjects ought to be burned for what they have done!’ In the word burn, my eyes flashed, and I saw Father Edmund again before me, his face half-destroyed by fire.
‘I thank Your Majesty for his kind words,’ said Campeggio. ‘His Holy Father has condemned these atrocities and the ones who depicted them in our Holy City. However, we have recently discovered that Emperor Charles had nothing to do with it, his soldiers mutinied and marched to take Rome in their own will.’
‘Forgive me, Your Eminence,’ the Duke of Suffolk said, speaking for the first time, ‘but surely, the emperor should take responsibility of his troops’ actions, they wore his colours I presume. Therefore, he’s responsible for them, and whether they mutinied or not is irrelevant, or maybe it gives us an even stronger indication of his weakness as a leader.’ His voice was also deep and a bit harsh; he seemed older than the king.
King Henry nodded to his duke and then added: ‘A king who cannot control his own soldiers is a weak leader, indeed, but he is responsible for their actions, nonetheless.’ He then took a large sip from his goblet and nodded to one of his servants to whom he whispered something. ‘How about you, Edward?’
I was taken aback that the king was talking to me directly and I spilt some of my wine on my lap. ‘Your Majesty?’
‘Where were you at the time of the battle?’ he elaborated.
I swallowed my own saliva out of nerves. Where was I? In a little shack conspiring your downfall, you greedy bastard. But, no, I was the bastard. The bastard whom you tried to kill to protect your damn crown. ‘I was fighting with the City Guard, Your Majesty,’ I said as convincingly as I could.
‘A brave man, you are,’ the king said. ‘’Tis horrible to be in the midst of a battle.’
And how would you know? I thought angrily. Nowadays, all kings did in times of war was to sit in the councils and make the battle plans along with the other shit-faced lords, but when the moment arrived, it was the soldiers’ blood that was spilt for their kings’ names. Men died for their king, and women became widows and children orphans, and for what? To satisfy the vanity of their sovereign.
‘’Tis, indeed, Your Majesty. Horrible beyond your imagination,’ I replied.
He smiled awkwardly and turned his attention to Campeggio again. ‘Your Eminence’s role here, though, is not to discuss wars and battles, but merely to settle my Great Matter, which has been itching my conscience and troubling my night sleep for many a year now,’ King Henry started, getting to the point of this meeting.
At that very moment, we heard the door open. The king stood up to admit a woman in our company; a woman so magnificently dressed, that at first, I thought it was Queen Catherine, but then the king spoke, ‘This is Lady Anne Boleyn, my lords. ‘Tis the woman to whom my heart belongs.’
We all stood following the king’s example. My eyes were transfixed upon her, for her beauty was as the rumours foretold. No wonder the king had left his ageing wife for a much younger and without a doubt more beautiful woman. For these few seconds I forgot everything, where I was and the reason why I was dining with these people, I even forgot my passion and love for Eleanor momentarily. I could only see Lady’s Anne’s eyes, those incredible black eyes which spoke for themselves, ind
icating strength and charisma, but also inviting us all to challenge her or maybe just converse with her. Then I gazed at her hair, which was also dark, perhaps black or auburn for I could not tell precisely in the flickering light of the candles. Her lips were thin and rosy, her nose small, whilst her neck was tall and was covered in thick red jewels; as for her dress, it was purple, to match with the king’s outfit.
After this grand entrance, Lady Anne took the vacant seat beside the king. She looked at me across the table, deep into my eyes, as if trying to put a spell on me.
Cardinals Campeggio and Wolsey, on the other hand, looked highly uncomfortable, as if they would prefer to be wherever else in the world but here.
‘Your Majesty, I would prefer us to speak in private on that matter,’ Campeggio announced.
‘There is nothing you could say that cannot be trusted to Lady Anne,’ King Henry said with a serious tone, indicating the finality of his words; she was here to stay. ‘I’ve invited her before you, Your Eminence, for a simple but most gracious reason. We would both like to reassure you that for as long as I’m wedded to Catherine, Anne and I will not be lovers and that our affection is platonic.’
Campeggio looked at him suspiciously but did not say anything.
‘’Tis true, Your Eminence,’ Lady Anne said with a soft voice, that sounded so seductive to me. ‘My love for His Majesty is well known at court. However, I do not share his bed, and nor will I ever do unless he’s a free man again,’ she added with a sweet smile.
‘Therefore, I brought her here today, to end these rumours. Anne is not the reason I wish to annul my marriage to Catherine, Your Eminence. ’Tis my conscience,’ the king said.
‘I see!’ Campeggio responded. ‘I will take that into consideration before I grant my verdict for this case.’
The Illegitimate Tudor Page 13