Wolf Hall & Bring Up the Bodies - the RSC Stage Adaptation

by Mike Poulton

  WOLSEY (bitter). God keep you, Stephen.

  NORFOLK. And you, Cromwell, get back to your smithy.

  Exit STEPHEN with the DUKES. CHRISTOPHE thumps a plunderer trying to conceal a silver chalice. He hands it to WOLSEY. Enter RAFE.

  WOLSEY. Everything I own I have from the King. If it pleases him to take my house I am sure we have other roofs to shelter under. (Throws the chalice to THOMAS.)

  THOMAS. We’ll go to Bishop Waynflete’s old manor in Esher.

  MARK. Oh no! Surely we can do better than that! Nobody’s been near the place for years. It’s probably fallen down.

  THOMAS. The roof is sound – it will do for the present.

  RAFE. Your Grace’s barge is ready.

  THOMAS. We’ll go up river – and the horses will meet us at… at Putney, in fact.

  MARK. Oh God! Putney? Do we have to?

  THOMAS. Come. We’ve done more difficult things these last years than get the household to Esher. I think we can find some bedlinen and soup kettles – and whatever else we can’t do without.

  Barge arrives. WOLSEY, THOMAS, MARK and others get aboard. Noise of crowd jeering.

  Sit down, Mark, or you’ll have us over.

  MARK. I’m not sitting there – the seat’s wet.

  THOMAS. Sit on it, or I’ll throw you in the river!

  WOLSEY. Why do they hate me? I’ve persecuted none of them – every year when wheat was scarce I saw they were fed. When the apprentices rioted – while they stood garlanded with nooses that were to hang them – I went on my knees to the King for them…

  THOMAS. Your Grace –

  WOLSEY. Why is the King angry with me? ‘Put him to work,’ they said. But I said no – he’s a young man. Let him hunt, joust, fly his hawks – play his music. He was forever plucking… something or other. And singing.

  MARK. You make him sound like Nero.

  WOLSEY. God help me! I never said so – he is the gentlest, wisest prince in Christendom – I’ll hear no word against him.

  Waynflete’s semi-derelict house. The bedraggled procession arrives and looks about. Lights are fetched. There’s a hole in the roof – water pouring in – and the floor is muddy.

  THOMAS. Well… This house looks pretty enough.

  WOLSEY. The old King was a hard man – but his son… So sweet a nature… Never spared myself. Rising early, watching late…

  MARK (to CHRISTOPHE, who is curious about MARK’s lute case). Get your filthy hands off my instrument.

  RAFE. A sound roof?

  THOMAS. We’ll soon have everything in good order. Come on then – to work!

  SERVANTS work efficiently. They bring boxes, sacks and bundles. Light fires, etc. WOLSEY collapses on a stool. MARK tunes his lute and makes himself useless.

  Get the kitchen cleaned up. I’ll send to London for a cook. He will be Italian. It will be noisy at first – but then it will work. Mark, put down that lute and pick up a broom.

  MARK. What?

  THOMAS. A broom – sweep the floors.

  MARK. The floor is mud. You can’t sweep mud.

  WYATT slips in unnoticed.

  WOLSEY. Tom Wyatt, where did you spring from? What sort of trouble is it this time?

  THOMAS. It’ll be money –

  WOLSEY. Or drinking. Continued with a breaking of windows – ending in rioting and beating the watch –

  WYATT. I followed you – I have a summons, Your Grace. I am to appear before the justices –

  WOLSEY. Give it here – give it here…

  WYATT. Could you –

  WOLSEY. Wait – let me finish. (Reads.) Does your father know of this?

  WYATT. No, Your Grace – I thought –

  WOLSEY. You thought you’d be used more mildly if you came to me.

  WYATT. Yes, Your Grace, I did.

  WOLSEY. I’ll talk to the Sheriff of London – if he’ll talk to me… Will anybody talk to me ever again?

  THOMAS. Tomorrow His Majesty will begin to miss you.

  WYATT. Sir, I am grateful. It won’t –

  WOLSEY. It won’t happen again? What kind of simpleton do you take me for? Of course it will happen again. Look at you!

  WYATT shifts uncomfortably in his torn clothes.

  I do this for your father’s sake. He’s been a good friend to the State, and to me. Friendship’s proving a costly business. (To THOMAS.) You see, Thomas – what it will be like without me? All the young lords in jail. Who else is summoned with you?

  WYATT. Tom Seymour, Francis Weston –

  WOLSEY. They can rot – I’ll not lift a finger…

  WYATT. I shall go to the King for you –

  WOLSEY. And make things worse? Stay away from His Majesty.

  WYATT. We must repair this. Someone has poisoned his mind against you. Norfolk has always been your enemy –

  THOMAS. No – Thomas More. It was Thomas More.

  WYATT. The King needs you. I’ll tell him so – he’ll listen –

  WOLSEY. I forbid it. Anything you say will be turned against you – and me. And when they come for me, where is the kind protector who will turn away the Sheriff’s men from my door? Not that I have a door any longer. Or a roof… (Looking up at the leak.) While I am… in eclipse, Cromwell here will look after you. He’ll be like a father to you – though not so kind a one as I have been.

  WYATT. He won’t beat me, will he?

  THOMAS. He might.

  WOLSEY. Cromwell’s a man who understands brawling and broken windows. If the only thing that will keep you out of trouble is a sound thrashing, he’ll be happy to oblige.

  WYATT. I am in your debt – and his.

  WOLSEY. And that’s another thing. You’re always in debt –

  WYATT. Your Grace, I cannot bear to see you in this place. If you’ll not let me plead to the King for you, what can I do?

  WOLSEY. Go and sit quietly in a room by yourself. And think upon the misery you’ve brought upon your unhappy father.

  Can you manage that? (As WYATT leaves, to himself.) I wonder if I can manage it. (To THOMAS.) And then there are the women. That boy is much troubled by women.

  THOMAS. Debts, drinking, fighting and women? That’s all I have to cope with then?

  CHRISTOPHE. He’s a real man! (Aimed at MARK.)

  WOLSEY. There’s no braver young man in England than Thomas Wyatt – nor a more honest one. Now, what about my supper?

  CHRISTOPHE jumps on MARK.

  MARK. Get off me! Don’t pull my clothes about! What’s…? (A rat CHRISTOPHE has shoved down his britches.) Oh! Aaagh!

  CHRISTOPHE. You not like her? You like better her brother?

  Produces another rat and chases MARK out.

  WOLSEY. Why do you employ that boy?

  THOMAS. No one else will.

  Enter RAFE.

  RAFE. There’s a rider coming.

  THOMAS. Christophe!

  CHRISTOPHE comes to heel, ready for a fight.

  WOLSEY. They’re going to arrest me!

  THOMAS. No – they’d send more than one man.

  RAFE. It’s Harry Norris, the King’s Groom of the Stool.

  SIR HENRY NORRIS and PAGE enter lathered from their gallop. NORRIS hands his riding cloak to THOMAS, as if he were a servant. THOMAS holds the cloak as if it were an offence to the human spirit. NORRIS makes a low bow to WOLSEY – smiling and courteous.

  WOLSEY. Now, Sir Henry – get your breath back. What can be so urgent?

  NORRIS. His Majesty has commanded me to ride after you and resolve this misunderstanding. He loves you for your faithful service and –

  WOLSEY (at once on his feet – horribly eager). Thank God! Oh, Thomas, we’re going home!

  THOMAS walks away – he knows what’s coming and can’t bear it.

  NORRIS (embarrassed). Ah… No. If you could… (A back-off gesture.) Until the Lady Anne’s temper cools…

  RAFE. It was the lady then?

  All look at NORRIS.

  NORRIS. Your Grace, all it needs is a
little time. To heal the… The King will calm her – you may be sure of that. Ladies are…

  WOLSEY. I know the King –

  NORRIS. He is – and he will continue to be your good master. He sends you this ring.

  WOLSEY kneels reverently in the muddy patch – receives the ring – kisses it.

  WOLSEY. He is the kindest and most merciful of rulers. (Tears.) Sir Henry, how can I reward you?

  NORRIS. Oh, really… there’s no –

  WOLSEY. This is a piece of the true cross. Cherish it. (Hangs his jewelled reliquary around NORRIS’s neck.)

  NORRIS. It’s… too much.

  THOMAS (to RAFE). Five for a florin in any workshop in Italy. (Gives cloak to CHRISTOPHE.) Come, Your Grace – let me help you up.

  WOLSEY (putting on the ring). I must return the King a gift. But I’ve nothing – what can I send him?

  NORRIS. Something perhaps for the Lady Anne? His Majesty would like that.

  WOLSEY. Yes – but what?

  CHRISTOPHE catches THOMAS’s eye and lifts his rat three inches.

  RAFE (looking at MARK). The Lady Anne likes music.

  THOMAS. Mark, put down your broom, boy, and go with Sir Henry Norris.

  MARK. Oh! Willingly! Gladly!

  WOLSEY. He’s a pretty thing, isn’t he – and he plays very nicely. Would she like him? I’ll be sorry to lose you, Mark – but you’ll be happy with Lady Anne.

  MARK. I shall be happy – at last, I shall be happy!

  THOMAS. Christophe – Sir Henry’s cloak.

  PAGE steps forward. CHRISTOPHE drops it in the mud.

  CHRISTOPHE. Oh – pardonnez-moi! Je suis désole!

  NORRIS. Your Grace.

  PAGE helps NORRIS with the cloak. NORRIS bows. We see a rat tied to his cloak as they exit.

  WOLSEY. All it needs is a little time. You’ll see. But I’m hungry. What’s for supper?

  The King cannot rule without me – I do everything for him. Who else can run the country? Norfolk would start a war with France and Thomas More would burn all the Bible scholars –

  THOMAS. If Jesus Christ came down among us, Thomas More would burn him for a heretic.

  WOLSEY. May God forgive you, Tom! (Laughter becomes tears.) I have two hundred servants at York Place – where will they go?

  THOMAS. We’ll find new places for them –

  WOLSEY. But they’re my people. When I am back in the King’s favour… (Sees THOMAS’s face, the truth hits him.) I think I should… Oh, Mother of God… Mother of God. (Overcome with misery and fear.) It is All Souls’ Eve. I feel the dead all around me. I’ll go say my prayers.

  All go out. THOMAS remains, takes out LIZ’s prayer book, reads, turns upstage. RAFE returns. We may or may not see LIZ’S GHOST in the shadows. Is that her white cap?

  RAFE. He’ll never recover from this, will he? (Pause.) Are you crying, sir?

  THOMAS. I am… Sorry. This is Lizzie’s prayer book – look, little Annie wrote her name in it.

  RAFE. Anne Cromwell.

  THOMAS. Grace couldn’t read but she loved the pictures – the bright, bright colours. I… (Weeps.) I don’t know where the dead go, Rafe. I don’t know if they come back… but I wish they would. I need to see Liz just once more. That day… She was well at breakfast time when I left her… I’ve lost my girls. And now I’ve lost my master – everything I’ve worked for – all the years of my life – just slipping away – it’s going so fast. Rafe, you must leave me – go back to your family –

  RAFE. No, sir, I’m staying. You’ve brought me up since I was seven. You taught me to look the world in the eye. I will not leave you. I will not.

  THOMAS. With Wolsey gone, Thomas More will wipe his boots on us. You’ll be on one of his lists.

  RAFE. Go to the King.

  THOMAS. He won’t see me.

  RAFE. Stand in his light till he does. What have you to lose?

  THOMAS. Well… You’re right. What have I to lose?

  CHRISTOPHE returns. His presence brings them back to earth.

  CHRISTOPHE. He says his prayers. Now he shouts for his supper. He say, ‘Who is cooking tonight? And what is it he cooks?’

  THOMAS (laughing). Oh, I’ll cook his supper.

  RAFE. Is there anything?

  THOMAS. There’s always something.

  CHRISTOPHE raises his rat three inches.

  Come on – do you think I can’t do it? I was once the best cook in the whole of Italy.

  Enter WYATT.

  WYATT. His Grace is calling for you, Master Cromwell. He says he wants turbot. And he hopes you remembered to bring plenty of lemons.

  Scene Eleven

  KING HENRY and his men go into his chamber. NORFOLK comes out. THOMAS arrives.

  NORFOLK. The King’s preparing to quarrel with you, Master Cromwell. Oh yes. He wishes to understand the Cardinal’s affairs so he favours you with an interview – but he’s never forgotten that in his last Parliament you spoke against his French wars.

  THOMAS. Not still dreaming of invading France, is he?

  NORFOLK. God damn you, sir – England owns France! We have to get it back.

  THOMAS. We never will though.

  NORFOLK. We have to try! What’s wrong with you people? Wolsey was forever snuffling after peace – always at the treaty table. How could a butcher’s son understand – understand the – er – what do you call it?

  THOMAS. La gloire?

  NORFOLK. Precisely. Blacksmith’s boy! Can you shoe a horse?

  THOMAS. Yes.

  NORFOLK. Useful. What else are you good for?

  THOMAS. I’ve been a soldier.

  NORFOLK. Not in any English army, I’ll be bound.

  THOMAS. I fought at Garigliano.

  NORFOLK (whistles). Did you by God! Which side?

  THOMAS. With the French.

  NORFOLK. There – see! I knew there was something about you I didn’t like… With the French! (Laughs.) Picked the wrong side there, lad!

  THOMAS. I noticed.

  NORFOLK. Bloody massacre! (Laughs – crosses himself.)

  THOMAS. I was there.

  NORFOLK. Bet you ran like a Frenchman too?

  THOMAS. I went north – got into the cloth trade – silks mostly. Good market with the soldiers over there.

  NORFOLK. By the mass, yes! Johnnie Freelance – those Switzers – like troupes of silken play actors! Makes ’em easy targets. Can you handle a longbow?

  THOMAS. Bit short.

  NORFOLK. Same here. Still we won’t win back France with the longbow. Archers don’t win battles – not any more.

  THOMAS. Then don’t fight any. Negotiate – it’s cheaper.

  NORFOLK. Cardinal’s man! I tell you, Cromwell, you’ve got a face coming here.

  THOMAS. The King sent for me, My Lord.

  NORFOLK. Did he? Has it come to that?

  Doors thrown open. KING HENRY, boar-spear in hand, is some distance away with a group of COURTIERS, dressed for hunting. NORRIS comes forward.

  NORRIS. Master Cromwell.

  THOMAS. Sir Henry.

  NORRIS. I was sorry to hear of your wife’s death.

  NORFOLK. What? Lost your wife?

  THOMAS. Yes, My Lord. To the sickness…

  NORFOLK. Well, you can get another easily enough. You can have mine if you want her. I’d be glad to get her off my hands.

  KING HENRY notices THOMAS, who kneels.

  KING HENRY. Thomas Cromwell? Stand up, man – off your knees. So… How is… (Leads THOMAS apart.)

  THOMAS. The Cardinal cannot be well until he regains Your Majesty’s favour.

  KING HENRY. Forty-four charges against him, Master – forty-four.

  THOMAS. Saving Your Majesty, there’s an answer to be made to each one.

  KING HENRY. Could you make those answers here and now?

  THOMAS. Yes. Would Your Majesty care to sit?

  KING HENRY. I heard you were a ready man.

  THOMAS. Would I come unprepared?

  KI
NG HENRY (smiles). Another day I’d put you to the test. But I’ve business with the new Chancellor then I’m off hunting with Suffolk. St Hubert’s, you know. Will the cloud lift, d’you think? D’you hunt yourself?

  THOMAS. I favour any sport that keeps young men off the battlefield.

  KING HENRY. The chase prepares us for war… (A hard look.) Which brings us to a sticky point, Cromwell.

  THOMAS (cheerfully). It does indeed.

  KING HENRY. Six years ago you said in the Parliament I could not afford a war.

  THOMAS. Seven years ago, Majesty. No ruler in the history of the world has ever been able to afford a war. Wars are not affordable things. No prince ever says, ‘This is my budget, so this is the kind of war I can have.’ No. War uses up all the money you’ve got – then it breaks you and bankrupts you.

  KING HENRY. When I led my soldiers into France in the year…

  THOMAS. 1513.

  KING HENRY. 1513, I took the town of Thérouanne – which in your speech you called –

  THOMAS. A doghole.

  KING HENRY. A doghole. How could you say so?

  THOMAS (shrugs). I’ve been there.

  KING HENRY (anger). And so have I – at the head of my army! Listen to me, master – you said I should not fight because the taxes would break my country. What’s a country for but to support its prince in his enterprise? What use is a king that can’t fight? Should I stay indoors and ply my needle like a girl?

  THOMAS. Well, it would put a smile on the face of Your Majesty’s Treasurer.

  KING HENRY (flash of fury, then laughs). I’m King of England. If I choose to war in France, what shall constrain me?

  THOMAS. The distances – the harbours – the terrain – the people – the winter rains and mud. When Your Majesty’s ancestors fought in France, whole provinces were held by England. From there we could provision and supply armies. Today we have only Calais.

  KING HENRY. I know. (Sunny smiles.) We’ll need to capture a sea coast and take back Normandy. (Laughs.) Well reasoned, Cromwell – I bear you no ill will. Only I fear you have no experience in policy, or the direction of a campaign.