Boleyn And His Bloodline

by J P Ceark

  ‘Aye, Sire. I’ll leave now and return her to you.’

  March 1527

  Hever Castle

  Mary stared at her sister’s happy state and felt the pang of irritation. ‘Why so pleasant, Sister?’

  ‘I received word from Henry, he is in a state of yearning, desperation for me to be with him.’

  ‘Are you to return to court?’

  ‘Aye, at once. I cannot delay. By Christmas we should be married.’

  Mary could feel her emotions jump from derision to bitterness. ‘Should you manage well at court?’ she indulged Anne’s foolish conviction. ‘A queen must set an example of humility, modesty; these are not qualities you possess.’

  ‘You allude to my temper in order to ignite it! What of humble, modest and meek smiles! I will give Henry a son.’

  ‘Such conviction! Any woman can do the same!’

  ‘He doesn’t choose any woman!’

  ‘Think again! Any mare can breed a foal!’

  ‘Enough of this!’ Elizabeth yelled. ‘If court saw the two of you, screaming with undignified fury …’ She gave them both a withering look. ‘Mary, understand this. Court is a divisive place and neither of you should make enemies with one another — we have enough of them already.’

  The girls were quiet. Elizabeth felt she needed to emphasise once more the dangers around them. ‘Put aside your egos. If this romance is leading to where we believe it will lead, Anne shall need her family around her, being her eyes and ears. The court governs by self-interest alone. We’ll need each other while others plot to ruin us.’

  * * *

  After a few days, tempers had calmed. The girls began to converse with each other once more. Neither wanted to feel as wretched as they did days before. Thomas had arrived but had not consulted with either of them, nor Elizabeth. He walked past Anne without even an address to her. She was anguished, he knew it, but feared any knowledge of the King’s intention would immediately provoke a reaction from her. He would delay the return and tighten the suspense for Henry; he would not hurry to unite them.

  The table had been adorned with meat, bread, wild greens, flowers and sugar. The wine, rich in appearance, decanted into heavy silver chalices. Intricate old tankards held good quality ale. His daughters looked upon him as he entered. Elizabeth stood obediently beside him. ‘Seat yourselves,’ he motioned to them.

  ‘News of court, Father?’ asked Anne without a moment for him to sup.

  ‘All in good time, Anne,’ he answered.

  The candlelight danced off the gold and silver tableware. ‘There was such a time I could barely afford pewter, let alone the food to place on it.’

  ‘Such rewards are given to those who serve the King faithfully, My Lord,’ Elizabeth spoke.

  He smiled at that, for she revealed her desire to be away from him.

  ‘Has the King spoken of me?’ interrupted Anne.

  ‘In good time, girl! Eat your food,’ cautioned Thomas, beginning to get irritated.

  ‘When the time is right, My Lord,’ ventured Elizabeth, ‘I’ll be joining Anne at court.’

  Thomas nodded. ‘That’ll be good. I plan to renovate the castle. The noise and dust will be constant.’

  ‘Can you afford this, Thomas?’ Elizabeth queried with surprise.

  ‘Aye, my fortune will be increasing.’

  ‘What good is all this? How does all this enrich our lives?’ Mary followed on with disdain.

  ‘Your objection is noted, Mary.’ Thomas turned coldly to her. ‘Since your mother is returning to court with Anne … when I allow it, you can return to your husband.’

  ‘I’m not welcome there.’

  ‘Ah, so there are other locations you’re not welcome. I thought it was just here!’

  ‘You promised me I wouldn’t have to return.’

  ‘It’ll appear respectable to outsiders that may wish to discredit Anne.’

  ‘That wasn’t our agreement!’

  ‘My Lord …’ Elizabeth sought to quell his temper.

  ‘Insolent wretch! You suffer my contempt because you are a fool! Go to your husband, may he suffer your disdain! For I cannot! And take your children with you! I’ll not trouble my wealth on them.’

  ‘No, My Lord,’ pleaded Elizabeth, but Thomas held up his hand to silence her.

  All were now silent at table. Mary stood slowly, trembling slightly. She made her way from the hall, her soft velvet slippers padding on the cold tiled floors. She made to her chamber, hot tears running down her cheeks. She was hurting; none offered sympathy and now she was abandoned.

  A servant came to remove her personal belongings. She was to leave this instance.

  ‘Tell not my master, I come to aid you,’ Robson pleaded. She shook her head as Robson took her satchel. ‘Your children will be brought to you,’ he spoke while she followed him to the horses.

  There was a short wait and then Catherine and Henry were brought to her. She bound Henry to her, his podgy arms about her neck. Some servants followed her and sat in their saddles. Catherine sat demurely on her pony, though she frowned with signs of confusion.

  They retreated from Hever. The decisions of others had brought destruction, distortion of mind, bitter recriminations and a loss of self. Worse, she now ventured towards her husband whose sly, underhand treatment had dissuaded all affection between them. Mary prayed for self-reliance. To be free from the will of others.

  * * *

  Thomas witnessed Mary and her servants leaving Hever, his rage being such that no compassion could be imagined. He resented her gloom being put upon him. He had no time to concern himself with her trifles. Why did she resist resolution, accept life’s disappointments and move on? Why burden him with it?

  ‘My Lord,’ broached Robson.

  ‘I know, Robson, its fine, she needs accompanying.’

  ‘No, Sir. A letter just come …’

  Thomas hadn’t noticed his man, Musgrave, while consumed with exasperation. He took the letter and read …

  My lord Father

  The court is still preoccupied with the French meeting, though Henry does make time to meet with Dr Wolman. Wolman informs me a law has been found to invalidate the marriage, yet whether it is used is in contention. Anne should return, there is a rumour the King has impregnated a washer woman. Not much credence but she has been paid off, signalling the King has had a dalliance. It is only a matter of time before all his interest is lost. Make haste or our commodity will lose its value.

  Your obedient son

  George

  Thomas threw the letter into the flames, he could not risk Anne reading it and acting irrationally. Like a game of chess, he had to move his pieces into place. Tomorrow the family would leave for court. He picked up his quill and dipped it in the ink, scratching a single sentence to his brother-in-law, the Duke of Norfolk.

  Return to court

  Viscount Rochford

  He left it for Musgrave to deliver come the following day. ‘Robson!’ he yelled to the end of the room. ‘Fetch Anne to me.’ His servant hurried out as Thomas waited.

  He did not have to wait long; her eagerness repulsed him. ‘We leave for court tomorrow.’ Anne nodded her approval. ‘Anne,’ he spoke sternly to get her attention. ‘Marriage, nothing less or I abandon you too.’ She nodded with agreement, her dark eyes glistening with emboldened confidence.

  March 1539

  Greenwich Palace

  The blessed relief Mary felt when Cranmer appeared, before Henry could say anything, before Cromwell could twist his response. When the Archbishop was cordial, so was Henry. He limped a little; he was bald and his weight was noticeable.

  ‘Sire, I’ve come to discuss my father’s estate,’ she ventured.

  ‘Is he ill?’ enquired Henry.

  ‘Aye, dying, Sire,’ clarified Cromwell. ‘Hever goes to the crown. Don’t beg for it,’ he cautioned Mary.

  ‘No, I wouldn’t,’ she reassured. ‘There are other properties but I know little of
what needs to be done. His Grace had offered assistance.’

  Cranmer nodded to the King, Henry shrugged his shoulders. ‘Go to it then, Cranmer … and Mary, come find me later … I … come find me later.’

  Cranmer took her to one side and explained the set up. He spoke in hushed tones while Cromwell looked on, his eyes frequently narrowing upon them.

  ‘As it is,’ began Cranmer. ‘I hold it all, be sure to seek legal advice. I interviewed this lawyer and believe he will succeed in gaining all of your inheritance. Be sure to fight it, Mary … the woodland is of considerable value. Cromwell will argue it was offered to the King; don’t give in to it. Your father was most insistent you inherit it.’

  ‘Aye,’ agreed Mary.

  ‘I’ll write to your father. I’m also to visit him tomorrow. Tell me, are you going to speak with him?’

  ‘I’ve yet to decide,’ she replied stubbornly. ‘I’ll write to him to say I’ll be delayed a little. Now more so—’

  ‘You both need to make peace with your past. Mary, we are all dependent on God’s forgiveness. Show to Him your own mercy.’

  Mary shuddered. Something in his words softened her resolve. ‘Aye, tell him I leave tomorrow, my journey will be of slow progress. I should reach him the following day, perhaps that evening.’

  ‘I can lend you my entourage?’

  ‘That is kind but no. I’ll make my own way home.’ He nodded but showed concern on his face. ‘When I see the King later, I’ll first send you a letter for my father. If you could take it to him?’

  ‘Fine … It’s a good thing you do. There was no hate in your sister’s heart for my dear friend, your father Thomas. If she could still think well of him perhaps you too could find the same affection and pray for him.’

  July 1527

  Beaulieu Palace

  Thomas arrived at the palace early, surveying the grandeur around him. He made his way through the Great Hall, ignoring the King’s servants that bowed to him. It was confirmation of his influence with the King; there was little need to acknowledge anyone below him.

  He continued to walk heavily through the rooms, his hard leather soles plodding on the tiled floor. ‘Lord Rochford!’ Thomas turned, recognising his son-in-law’s voice.

  ‘William, is all prepared?’

  ‘Aye, as you instructed. The deer herd is plentiful for the King to go hunting and all the law books have been found and placed in the conference chamber. Also your daughter Mary is with my parents.’

  ‘I care not a fig where she be … I have little time for foolish irritancy. There are serious matters to attend to. The Pope has been captured by the Spanish Emperor and Wolsey has abandoned his authority and hath placed the King’s matter in the heart of Rome.’

  ‘I fear Anne’s ambition is lost.’

  ‘‘Tis better to be away from pessimistic voices, let us keep it so,’ Thomas cautioned. ‘Anyway, this committee will expose those that stand with us and those that are against us.’

  ‘Should not Anne be here as well?’ William queried suspiciously.

  ‘She’ll be of ill humour and monopolising the King’s attention. This operation needs cold calculation,’ Thomas explained.

  ‘Aye, and I know no one colder,’ William retaliated. ‘Remember your incentive, Lord Rochford? I care for my family’s advancement too.’

  ‘Or what?’ Thomas taunted.

  ‘Or I publicly disown Catherine and divorce Mary for adultery. I need not name the King to soil your name.’

  Thomas paused. Though irritated, he cared little about the issue William brought to him. ‘Anne will champion your sister for Abbess.’

  ‘Then we’re understood.’

  * * *

  Within the next few days, the King was on progress and arrived at Beaulieu in happy expectation that a solution would be found. He dismissed refreshment and entered into his conference chamber. Thomas stood behind him, waiting for comment.

  ‘This is good, our minds will come together here, among the words of law and Christ.

  ‘Aye, Sire and everyone has arrived. The Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, the Marquess of Exeter, Earls Oxford, Essex and Rutland, Sir Fitzwilliam and myself. But first let us have a day hunting. We must approach this matter with clear minds.’

  ‘I’m in your debt, dear Rochford. Your council be of steady thought. I look forward to the day when I can name you my father-in-law,’ Henry spoke with deep sincerity.

  Thomas bowed his head in false humility.

  * * *

  The day had come to meet. After days of hunting, all were relaxed enough to pursue the King’s will. Thomas surveyed the room, each member an authority to move a country towards a new thinking.

  ‘The Pope has been captured by Emperor Charles. Wolsey won’t react until he knows of Rome’s thinking and Queen Katherine rejects all notion of a separation. Sire, nothing more can be done. Your cause is lost,’ summarised Norfolk while sneering at his brother-in-law.

  Thomas ignored the irritation on the Duke’s face. He knew of Norfolk’s disapproval at how far he had pushed matters. But he cared little for his opinion. He would not see Anne lowered for his advancement. If the Boleyn’s were to rise, they would rise as a family.

  ‘Wolsey has dismissed our argument,’ Henry rationalised though with great disappointment within his voice.

  ‘Our only hope is if the Pope escapes. Perhaps through loathing of the Emperor’s tactics, he will side with Your Majesty.’ Rutland suggested.

  ‘It is a ploy,’ spoke Thomas. ‘The Pope is no more a prisoner than I. They are hoping you will accept that no divorce can be issued and remain married.’

  ‘For what possible purpose? Katherine has no political influence. She cannot conceive children, she is old. For what reason should Rome reject my request? Her nephew is not even Spanish! He’s Dutch!’ Henry summarised.

  ‘Yet Charles the Fifth is an emperor and Rome does his bidding,’ voiced Suffolk.

  ‘What is the answer?’ Henry asked in despair.

  ‘A divorce from Rome,’ concluded Suffolk. ‘Let’s stop the cardinals and bishops seeking their good life from the purse of Rome’s ill-gotten fortune.’

  ‘If we break from the Catholic Church, these holy men must do your bidding, must speak your intentions, not Rome’s,’ Thomas explained, but Henry knitted his brow.

  ‘Would that not cause the wrath of God? As well as incite war?’

  No one could reassure the King it would not.

  ‘Is there not another way round this?’ Henry tried again.

  ‘Wolsey dissolved his investigation and doth not pursue his candidacy for Pope. I cannot think of another solution,’ Suffolk continued.

  ‘If we request for the divorce,’ Thomas spoke again, ‘Rome will force a trial to be conducted there.’

  ‘They will work against you, Sire,’ hastened Suffolk.

  ‘What if the trial took place in England?’ suggested Thomas. ‘Not one with Wolsey but an ambassador of the Pope, and it is made public and the public can hear the legitimate arguments for the King’s divorce. Let us not forget the dispensation given from Rome at the time Your Majesty’s marriage. It has been proven to be wrong. The marriage therefore is invalid; whether the begetting of a child proves God did bless the marriage or no, the law says the marriage is invalid.’

  ‘I’ve sired children, but every time God took them. He took my boy. For eleven days he breathed, cried, suckled! He was a healthy child, rosy-cheeked and plump. To then die without cause … No, God condemned me for marrying my brother’s wife, of that there can be no dispute.’ Henry’s voice was breaking with emotion. ‘For the trial to be heard here, the realm and the clergy will hear the agony we suffered! Rome will have to agree to invalidate the marriage.’

  ‘But Wolsey should be kept far from the matter, Sire,’ suggested Rutland. ‘He is idle to your desire.’

  ‘Who gathers the evidence for the argument?’ questioned Exeter.

  ‘Gardiner, but he is Wolsey�
��s man and shall not doubt his master’s intention to serve the King. For the Cardinal’s history, Sire, has always been to aid your every endeavour,’ spoke Fitzwilliam.

  Thomas’s eyes narrowed on him. He remembered Fitzwilliam had been appointed Treasurer after himself by Cardinal Wolsey. He had found his pretender in the pack.

  ‘If Gardiner is requested to advise the King, he shall be co-operative,’ reassured Norfolk.

  ‘What if Rome still does not agree?’ enquired Suffolk.

  ‘Only God can lead me upon that path,’ answered Henry.

  September 1527

  Hever Castle

  Mary

  Since last I wrote, little has progressed. I’ve spent more time at Hever than at court. Henry writes often to me but the lack of progress is tiring.

  I’ve received a number of letters from your husband, requesting my support of his sister to become Abbess. I’ve now done so, putting my thoughts to Henry on the matter yet Wolsey dallies, as he does on most things.

  Regarding your personal matters, I’ve yet to speak to Father on your behalf but I gather from your last letter that your situation suits you better. Mother has asked after the children. Send her word soon.

  Write to me again

  Anne

  March 1539

  Hever Castle

  Robson had returned with a plentiful selection of food for which he had paid over the odds but would not say so to his master. The three of them ate the feast together and only after a certain amount was consumed, Robson informed Thomas that Mary was delayed. Thomas nodded but his disappointment was hardly veiled. ‘The King will be in council, she will have to wait to be seen by Cranmer,’ Robson explained.